Recovery
by GatorGirl99
Summary: Yet another Daryl/OC unfinished tome. Harper (a con/thief) hiding out in the Georgia woods meets our group...right after Beth was shot. Harper rescues Beth and brings them back to her hideaway. Follows cannon, with my own changes.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, I know I've been away for a while. And I'm the ultimate story unfinisher, so I warn you in advance. But I've got quite a bit written, but alas, of course not finished.

This is, of course, my favorite genre, the Daryl O/C. This story picks up right after the shoot out at Grady...only in my story Beth doesn't die. But it's not a Bethyl story...though Beth will find her man. This story starts with my O/C Harper. She's a con artist and thief from Britain/Ireland who just happened to be hiding out after stealing a great deal of money from a Dutch billionaire. Her hide out turned out to be her salvation but she eventually has to emerge from her shelter. She's not a badass, but she's smart and capable.

This is Harpyl all the way, but really slow to getting to the good stuff (aka Alexandria). Hope you like.

"Dear Lord! Is every bluidy highway in Georgia like this?" Harper Winslow wiped away the profuse sweat and huffed in annoyance and disgust as she turned away from the hideous sight before her. The highway was littered with abandoned cars and dead, rotting bodies. The stench of those decaying bodies was making her nauseaus after hours of it. Not for the first time, did she wonder if perhaps she was dead and this WAS her hell. It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. As if to somehow convince herself she was not dead, and this was not Hell, she focused her attention on her maps….highlighting the impassable roads with blue highlighter, circling hot spots with red sharpie. Not that she had OCD issues or anything.

"Fuke this shite! You're not in hell, so get yer shite together," she tossed the maps and markers into the console and slammed her hands against the supple leather steering wheel…. so hard, it actually shook the car. The dog resting in the passenger seat peered up at her, then closed his eyes, oblvious to what a shite storm they were in.

She, however, was keenly aware that every second they remained out here in the open vastly increased their chances of not making it back safe tonight, which she used to rationalize her lapses into vulgarity and self-pity. But since they'd left the cabin early this morning, they'd already double-backed twice because of impassable roads or swarms of deaders – costing hours of valuable daylight. The only saving grace was that the only other living soul to witness said lapses from grace was Bub, who merely looked over at her with his usual disdain in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Here you go, Bub. You need to stay hydrated," Harper poured bottled water into a plastic cup she'd cut down and set in the cup holder. He slurped loudly from the cup, then curled back into the leather chair, his nose occasionally sniffing the icy breeze from the AC vents that blew against his muzzle.

Harper continued to debate her options while nibbling on beef jerky. She'd pulled her black SUV behind one of the many abandoned vehicles that were scattered everywhere, in the hopes of blending in. She'd tried to take some of garage shine off by rubbing dirt on the SUV, but if an actual person gave it much more than a passing glance, she knew the gig would be up.

She bit the cap off the red sharpie, and nibbled on the end while marking through yet another unpassable road. She damn sure wasn't going to make the same dumb arse mistakes going back as she did getting here. The highways were a complicated and dangerous maze of impassable roads of walkers, debris and humans that now 'controlled' them. So rarely did the shortest route from point A to point B exist anymore. Which meant she still had at least thirty more miles to go and that was IF the rest of the highway was passable.

She momentarily considered turning back and cutting her losses – it would take her half the time now she had the map marked. Maybe that gas station a few miles back wasn't as looted as it looked, she thought to herself. But the reality was she'd probably be lucky to find a tin of dog food. She glanced over at Bub, and figured at least one of them would be happy. Then again the spoiled beast would likely turn up his nose, having grown accustomed to eating whatever Harper ate.

"Well Bub, we've come this far. Might as well suck it up, Buttercup" She reached over to fluff his soft fur, earning her a warm lick on her hand as she put the truck into gear.

"Are you bluidy fuking kidding me?" Harper glanced up before pressing the gas and shook her head, catching the glimmer of movement off in the distance. Could she not catch a bluidy break? And whatever it was, it was big, and moving fast. She lifted up her binoculars and scooched down into her seat….relocking the already locked doors.

Harper took a deep breath, then peered up again. Shit, whatever they were driving was really big. She mentally ran through the pros and cons of gunning it and spinning her truck around - maybe out run them and hope they didn't care enough to waste the gas and chase her down. But, with as fast as they were moving, she felt her best bet at this point was to hope they kept up the pace and just drove past. Hiding in plain sight had long been her forte. Maybe their speed would keep them from paying too much attention to the cars scattered about? She just had to pray they weren't scavengers.

"A fire truck? Who the hell drives a bluidy firetruck?" She gasped as the large red truck got closer and she reconsidered whether it was too late to go back to plan A? Her foot was itching to put the pedal to the metal.

"Oh bluidy hell, they've got a goddamned caravan," she groaned when she made out at least two more vehicles behind the fire truck. Shit. Now they were slowing down because of all the cars turning the highway into an obstacle course.

She was going to have to make a decision very soon. To sit here like a sitting duck and pray nobody noticed a very expensive and shiny black Land Rover in mint condition (albeit with the smattering of dirt thrown haphazardly on it)? And what were the odds all vehicles wouldn't notice her. Maybe fifty-fifty? It could happen? But what if she was wrong? Then what? Then she'd have no option but a confrontation. Was she prepared for that?

"Buckle up, Bub. Looks like we're going on a bit of runabout. Let's hope we have more gas and the fastest car," Harper reached over and buckled in her dog. Things were about to get real. Really real. Now.

Harper cranked the ignition, and held her breath, waiting for the fire truck to get close enough until it had too much momentum to stop.

She waited and watched, well aware she needed to time this perfectly. The fire truck appeared at the top of the hill. Harper no longer needed her binoculars to see the occupant. The driver was a muscle-bound military type.

She slid down further, and waited for the fire truck to pass. It was going much slower now, as it navigated the highway – taking slow wide rights, then equally slow lefts. She used the electronic controls to move the side mirror so she could continue to watch the firetruck behind her. She peered up just as the Suburban following the fire truck passed, only this time Harper could literally feel the eyes of the driver on her – at the very least on her car.

She sunk down further, but in the side mirror she watched the telltale sign of red break lights. The truck was stopping. Which would signal the others to stop.

"Shite, Shite, Shite! Fuke!" She spat more profanity as she was forced to admit the ruse was up. She had to make a decision. She peeked up at the mirror again, just to make sure they'd stopped and she wasn't imagining this. That she wasn't borrowing trouble.

"Bub…..We're going for a drive, you ready?" she looked over at her dog, fluffled his hair, scooched up and floored it, controlling her breathing as the adrenaline started to flood her system. She darted out past the Suburban in the opposite direction, only just catching the wide eyed look of surprise on the blue-eyed bearded driver.

"Wahoooooo. Take that!" she raised her middle finger while speeding in the opposite direction – trying like hell to give herself some much needed confidence that she could outmaneuver these guys.

"Oh no way. No No No No No Way!" she groaned when she saw two more vehicles in this not-so-little caravan racing towards her – now trying to box her in.

"Bluidy Hell," she watched in the rear view mirror as the Suburban spun around and the other two vehicles ahead of her tried to close the difference It was now a turkey shoot. Five against one – what could go right?

THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD

"Rick? What are you doing? We need to get Beth some help! Now's not the time to chase down anyone." Glenn yelled as Rick slammed on brakes, and spun around the Suburban. Glenn held Maggie's hand who sat in the far back with her bloody sister cradled in her lap.

"We've got to. What if it's someone from Grady? They'll have medical supplies?" Rick's red-rimmed eyes glowed with more than a hint of fury, and probably more than a little crazy.

"It's just one car. And there's no cross on the back window. Rick….stop it. Let it go, We need to get Beth help," Glenn pleaded. But still, Rick pressed the pedal to floor and chased after the shiny black SUV, secure in the knowledge that Daryl, who was bringing up the rear would know what to do on his end.

THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD

Harper gripped the steering wheel as she gauged the oncoming truck's intention. Unfortunately the obstacles also gave the truck behind her ample time to catch up. But, then that might be to her advantage if she needed it to be.

The last oncoming truck was now coming straight at her.

"Shite. Fuke me! Tea and Biscuits it is!" Harper finally had no choice. She slammed her foot on the brake, thrusting the truck into a violent spin. She controlled it perfectly, as she'd been taught, and turned into the spin while her foot expertly adjusted until she guided the truck to a controlled stop. Her truck emerged from the spin exactly how she wanted it….. perfectly perpendicular to the highway …..which gave her the most options for escape.

"You ok there Bub,?" Harper reached over to pet him but Bub merely raised his brows as if to say 'what's the big deal'? As she looked around she forced herself to take a deep breath, then another, then another, until her breathing was under control. She didn't bother to duck down, knowing the bulletproof glass would protect her. And at the very least, it would let her know what she was up against.

She patiently waited for her assailants to make the first move, since they were the ones that started this little brouhaha. And she sure as shite wasn't going to give them the advantage of knowing she was alone. Or that she even was a 'She'.

"So Bub, Plan A, is they wave and apologize, and we both drive off, and live happily every after" Harper offered, hoping against hope that if she tossed it out into the universe, it just might manifest.

Before she'd even got the words out, the scruffiest man she'd seen in a very long time exited the grey Suburban, holding an assault rifle as he cautiously approached. Then a man from the blue sedan got out, and Harper found it hard to believe but he was even filthier and more disheveled than the other man. The smattering of what appeared to be fresh blood on them both, gave her pause.

"Well, so much for plan A. And fuke that book,The Secret,...and the Universe," Harper spat, though she pretty much knew throwing wishes out into the universe wasn't exactly much of a fullproof plan.

"I guess it's on to plan B," She slid open the sun roof and quickly gathered her weapons, letting the AR15 emerge through the sunroom first.

"Please don't shoot, please don't shoot, please don't shoot," She mumbled under her breath like a mantra as she prepared herself to follow the gun through the sunroof. Everyone back home knew how much the Yanks liked their guns and were insanely trigger happy. Hopefully these Yanks would show a wee bit of restraint. Still, 'Please Don't Shoot' was not her favorite of defense plan strategies.

She waited for the onslaught of gunfire, but thankfully it didn't come. She slowly peered up through the sunroof, getting her first real look at the two men who'd decided to chase her down and ruin her day. And the first living people she'd seen in nearly two years. She couldn't decide between pissed, or astonished.

"Good day gentlemen," she went with civilized.

"Hello ma'am," the bearded guy from the Suburban nodded politely as he addressed her, while the other shaggy haired man kept his piercing blue eyes on her the entire time. Both pointed guns at her.

"If you don't mind, how about I just nicely ask you two gentlemen to let me be on my way. I don't want any trouble," Harper smiled sweetly all while pointing the barrel of her weapon between them so they knew she was deadly seriousness, but also not eager to start a gunfight.

The shaggy man with the sexy arms looked to the bearded one, letting Harper know exactly who was calling the shots.

"We're not looking for trouble either, ma'am." the bearded man in charge answered but he also slowly approached, making it more difficult for her to keep an eye on both men. Harper suspected that was why he was doing it.

"Well, you've got a really funny way of saying 'Welcome to the neighborhood'," she accused, as she mocked him by doing her spot on mimic of his Georgia accent.

Rick could see the tension on her face – but the same tension was also on Daryl's. And Rick damned sure didn't need another injured person. He could only vaguely regret not having listened to Glenn. But here they were. Rick had to negotiate a way out for all.

"I apologize ma'am," Rick used his most genteel of sheriff's voices, the one he used to reserve for hysterical old ladies that lost their cat.

"People on the roads aren't always safe ta trust," Rick figured taking some of the blame would be the best place to stae.

"You don't say? I can't imagine why anyone would think that?" Harper couldn't hold back her sarcasm.

"I know, I know. But you don't always realize you're making a mistake until after you've made it. We were just…..sort of….hoping you could maybe… help us." Rick's blue eyes bored into hers as he begged – pinning Harper to the spot as she waited for him to elaborate.

"We've got an injured girl - gunshot. And we were hoping you might have medical supplies," Rick wasn't sure what he'd do if she was with the Grady people. But he had a damned good idea of what Daryl would do.

"A gunshot wound? Why would you think some random driver could help you? Why don't you take her to hospital?" Harper frowned at their faulty logic. They had to be fuking with her. But then again she also hadn't expected they would 'ASK for her help either. She figured they'd demand it. Maybe that was still their plan….to "lull" her into complacency?

"Ma'am?" the two men looked at each other then back at her, as if she were daft.

"There are no hospitals anymore. How do you not now that?"

Harper looked around as the other passengers slowly joined in. But seeing the condition of these people, Harper started to piece together that maybe she'd underestimated the devastation that had happened all around her. She'd sort of figured things were bad – that the electronics were out and such. But not to this extent – not to where there were no hospitals! If that were true, then she was lost. She'd never be able to make it back to Wales...back to G, and the others.

"How bad is the gunshot wound?" Harper found herself getting sucked in, despite her suspicions, reservations and determination not to. What was it about the best laid plans?

"S'real bad. She needs a proper doctor, but we'd be grateful for anything at this point. Fresh water to hydrate her? Clean cloth for bandages? An aspirin or Tylenol? Anything you can offer," Rick shook his head –mentally and physically exhausted..

Harper stared at the beaten men – then at the entire bedraggled group. Everyone was armed to the teeth yet they could hardly stand. For most of them it was nothing but sheer will and determination that kept them on their feet.

Every fiber of her being said they were telling the truth and wouldn't hurt her. Could she afford to be wrong? But then she asked herself, if everyone acted on that algorithm, would anyone ever help anyone ever again? And in times like these you needed people far more than you didn't.

"I've got a medical kit. I'm not a doctor, but I'll do my best to help…that is, if I have your word you won't shoot me or try anything?" Harper glared at the two men. The look of shock on their faces, followed by relief, then gratitude told her she was doing the right thing. At least she hoped that was what she saw. Shite! Was she making the right call? How could she not?

"I give you my word," the bearded man promised, his face morphed even more solemn which Harper could hardly believe. He lowered his weapon.

"You gave me your word. Can I have your name?" Harper pressed. Words and names held meaning and power

"Rick Grimes – and I give you my word we will not harm you." Rick cautiously approached, urging Daryl to do likewise.

"I'm encouraged to hear that. But, I'd still feel more comfortable if you laid your guns down while I get out?" she read their micro-expressions as well as their body language, looking for the slightest twinge.

The two men agreed, well aware if she tried anything, no less than a dozen guns would take her down.

Harper was still nervous, but she shimmied back down through the sun roof and exited her truck, leaving Bub inside with the window down. She popped the rear hatch and grabbed the medical kit and appraoched the two strangers.

"I'm Rick Grimes. And this is….Daryl Dixon," Rick rushed through the introductions.

"Harper Winslow. So who needs help?" Harper shook both their hands then urged them to lead her to the injured.

"Come with me. She was shot a little over two hours ago," Rick literally dragged her to the back of the large Suburban where a frail blonde woman was lying diagonally in the back, her head cradled in the lap of another woman and a mishmash of blood soaked cloths were wadded up at her stomach. The woman was stroking the blonde's hair, as if afraid to stop.

"What's your name, lass?" Harper jumped into the back with the ease of a gymnast and crawled beside the girl.

"Beeeehh," was all the girl could manage, her lips were purple and crusty from dehydration, and shock was setting in.

"Beth. Her name is Beth. My sister's name is Beth," the stunning brunette struggled to add as she continued to stroke her hair.

"Well, Beth, for someone who was unlucky enough to get shot , you were lucky to run into me. So let's see about patching you up, yeah. I know it probably doesn't feel like it at the moment, but you're going to be just fine, yeah?" Harper had seen time and time again how a patient's belief was the best indicator of healing. She peered at Beths pupils, which thankfully were equal, round and reactive to light but her pulse was thready and very weak.

"She needs an IV. I can do fluids for now, but a blood transfusion would be better" Harper pulled out one of the propylene IV bags from her medical kit and hung it up over the garment hooks.

"Here, would you pull my truck closer?" Harper tossed her keys to 'shoulders', sensing he needed something to do other than stare at injured girl while she worked.

"So, who can tell me exactly happened?" Harper asked the auburn haired girl who held Beth.

"Gunshot wound – maybe two hours ago. It was a 9-mil at close range. Her left abdomen," Maggie struggled to explain, her words coming out in short clips. She was clearly terrified, but her terminology was indicative of medical training or knowledge which gave Harper hope.

"Ok, Beth let's take a quick look then. I'll be as gentle as I can," Harper gently reached her fingers around the slim girl's back, hoping like hell she'd find an exit wound. Harper smiled when she felt the rough edges and sticky blood of the exit.

"Well, Beth, it's your lucky day. Obviously you'd have been luckier if you hadn't been shot. But it looks like a through and through." Harper squeezed Beth's hand, encouraged by the gentle yet firm squeeze in return.

"Ok Beth, I'm going to tell you everything I 'm going to do before I do it, so if anything bothers you or concerns you, let me know. Even if it's just a question or you want a minute." Harper had also learned how important it was for the patient to feel empowered.

"So, first, I'm going to give you something rather strong for the pain, yeah? You might feel woozy or disoriented. But don't be afraid. It's the effect of the meds. You just have to relax and let your body heal. Is that ok with you?" she looked into Beth's big blue eyes as she nodded she understood. Moreover, she could tell Beth appreciated the time she took explaining what was happening to her.

"Who are you?" Harper looked again to the woman holding Beth. The one with red-rimmed green eyes and auburn hair.

"I'm ….Maaa….I'm Maggie Greene. Beth's my sister," Maggie had tears running down her face.

"Here, wipe your face, Maggie and dry your tears. I'm going to need your help," Harper spoke firmly as she handed Maggie a damp towel, sensing the sister needed her to be strong.

"Ok, Maggie. We need to get her stabilized. Her blood pressure is dangerously low but the IV should help that. You did great by packing the wound and minimizing blood loss," Harper complimented what they'd managed to do, with nearly zero supplies.

"My Dad …. was a vet," Maggie admitted, her chin still quivering as she forced herself get it together.

"That's great. Draw up 5 mg?" Harper handed her a syringe and vial of morphine sulphate.

"You're sharing this? Don't you know what this is worth?" Maggie's eyes widened. Even Tylenol these was a luxury. Hospital grade painkillers were nothing but a dream anymore.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Your sister needs this," Harper shrugged, still naïve to the realities of the new world.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," tears started to stream down Maggie's cheeks, but one glare from Harper and she sucked it up.

Harper focused her attention on getting an IV picked, but it was tricky since Beth's veins were the size of a thread by now. It was a catch 22. Beth was dehydrated so her veins were miniscule. But the only way to plump up the veins was to rehydrate her. Finally Harper was able to find a vein on Beth's inner arm using a butterfly. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Maybe later after Beth's veins plumped up, she could find a better one.

"Hey you," Harper called to the slim black man who had yet to leave the rear of the SUV.

"I need a flat board. Something to tape her wrist? Can you go find something?" Harper asked/ordered, using her hands to describe what she needed.

"Tape," she demanded, hand reached out, expecting it to be there. It was.

"And where the hell's that board?"

"Here it is. Sorry, but we had to cut it down," a handsome Asian man handed it to her, standing by to see if she needed anything else. When she turned around she noticed a small crowd had formed at the rear of the truck, while another group guarded a perimeter. It only served to convince Harper that she'd made the right decision. These people were clearly a family (of sorts) that cared deeply for each other.

"Ma'am, may I have some of your water? Just a little for my sister?" Harper turned to see a teen boy, with an infant on his hip. His plaintive voice nearly broke her heart. She'd been that thirsty and hungry more than once in her own life, and recognized the look.

"Of course you can, lad. Take whatever you need from the cooler, for you and others as well. There are snacks and crackers in a bag. I think I even threw in some apples sauce, pudding and crisps. The lass might like the pudding or apples? You'll have to look around for the spoons," Harper assured, waving her hand toward her truck. This time it was Carl's turn to give her that wide-eyed shocked, grateful look.

"There ya go luv. On a scale of one to ten, how is your pain?" Harper returned her attention to Beth and injected more pain meds when Beeth's face still contorted in pain at the barest touch.

"Maybe a six," Beth's voice began to slur and her eyes became glassy. She now had a rather cute lopsided grin on her face.

"You're so pretty…..soooooh soft," Beth's fingertips glanced Harper's cheek, then she slowly twirled Harper's dark gold hair into lazy swirls.

"Well, you keep thinking that luv, ok?" Harper used the surgical scissors to cut away the threadbare green scrubs, the dried blood now adhering the fabric to Beth's tender skin. Still Harper couldn't help but pause. Who in their right mind left hospital after they'd been shot?

She looked up and met Maggie's eyes, but Maggie silently told her to leave it be.

"Can someone hand me a towel? There's some in my truck," Harper reached out. This time it was 'shoulders' who handed it to her, watching intently as she continued to rinse and clean the wound.

Harper gently lifted the now very compliant Beth up, and placed a clean cloth beneath her back.

"Gauze" Harper called, the gauze instantly hitting her hand. It was tight quarters in the back of the Suburban, but they made do. Looking at the older cuts on Beth's face, Harper couldn't imagine what else this girl had been through. What they'd all been through. But now wasn't the time to ask.

"What she really needs a blood transfusion," Harper looked to the sister.

"She's O+, just like me. I can donate," Maggie offered before Harper even asked.

"That'll be excellent when you can get her to a proper surgery."

The looks on everyone's face went blank and nobody would meet her eyes.

"What? I don't have the equipment to do a roadside blood transfusion. She needs a proper hospital," Harper frowned, wondering what they expected of her.

"So you do have the equipment?" Maggie's eyes came alive with hope again.

"Maybe I could piece it together. I just don't understand. I know Rick said things were bad, but surely there is something? A military base with a hospital? Something?" Harper asked as she finished bandaging Beth's wounds, using no less than 25 steristrips.

Maggie shook her head 'No', as she held her sister.

"I don't know how to thank you," Rick came over to help her out of the truck bed.

"I'm glad I was able to help. But you could use some work on your initial greeting," Harper wiped Beth's blood from her hands with one of the disposable wipes, then sealed it in the plastic bag she gathered all the blood soaked debris in. She didn't want to inadvertently attract a deader because she was sloppy with her rubbish.

"Ma'am, if you don't mind, everyone wants to thank you," Rick escorted her over to where the others milling about. Introductions quickly followed and morphed into a veritable onslaught of names and faces, including a priest, the hot pig-tailed woman named Rosita, and Abraham, the ginger giant. It was overwhelming.

"Please don't call me ma'am. It's Harper….. Harper Winslow." she dutifully smiled and shook hands as she humbly accepted their gratitude. But they wouldn't have it, every one of them thanked her over and over – for even the tiniest of things. For helping Beth, for sharing her water, for the snack, etc.

"Harper, I hate to impose on you again, but we have another injured person. Would you mind taking a look at her? I promise, no more gunshot wounds," Rick begged.

Harper, of course, agreed and found herself being pulled to another car, this time to help Carol, a petite woman in her mid-40's suffering from internal injuries secondary to being hit by a car. Harper couldn't do much for Carol on the side of the road other than give her pain meds and bind her rib. She did what she could.

"Rick, Daryl – a word?" Harper pulled the two men off to the side..

"Carol and Beth need to rest for a few days at least, preferably in an actual bed and not in the back of a car. And Beth still needs that blood transfusion sooner rather than later." Harper frowned at the look of despondence on Rick's face.

"What?" she frowned. Did they not understand how serious Beth and Carol's status was?

"Ms Winslow, I thought we were fairly clear. For God's sakes, just look around. THERE ARE NO ARMY, NO HOSPITALS, NO NOTHING," Rick lost control and screamed at her.

"I'm sorry, Harper. You didn't deserve that. But the reality is there are pockets of survivors that roam these highways. Some are like us, just trying to stay alive but most are your worst nightmare. We don't have a place to stay as yet, but we'll find something. We always do," Rick insisted, though it was clear to Harper the other's had doubts.

"How the hell don'tchya know any 'a this? Where you been? Under a damn rock?" Daryl accused, his blue eyes skewering her.

"Are you telling me that you have no place to go for Beth to recover and rest. Other than the back of that truck?" Harper's eyes widened and her voice rose as she ignored Daryl's thinly veiled accusation. Everyone turned to stare, clearly scared….and exhausted…..and hungry. The only ones who seemed un-phased by the heated discussion were Bub and Judith - Bub was too busy licking the remnants of food from the little girl's face, eliciting an eruption of giggles and a flurry of tail wagging.

"We said we'd find a place. Thanks fer yer help," this time it was Daryl spoke. He spun on his boot heel to head back to the blue sedan. Rick reluctantly followed.

Bluidy Hell. Harper watched Daryl's ramroad straight back as he walked away. But without somewhere to recover, she doubted Beth would make it.

"Hey! Rick! Hold up," Harper called out, shocking herself more than anyone.

Rick's hand was on the handle of the Suburban when he heard her call his name. He slowly turned around – everyone's eyes upon her.

"I don't have much. It's just a small cabin. But it's remote and secure – at least it has been this long. You're welcome to rest a few nights with me. It's a few hours drive away. But I could do the transfusion for Beth there. That is, if you want to?" Harper offered, her hands in her pockets as she shrugged and waited, wondering if she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Rick stared at her for a long while.

"You'd really do that? You don't even know us?" Rick's cry came out almost as an accusation. He desperately wanted to accept her hospitality and trust her, but he couldn't trust anyone. Not anymore.

"Because it's what people are supposed to do. I won't lie. I'm scared to death. I've been safe this long on my own and your people could easily overpower me. But you could have already done that, if you wanted to. And someone took a chance on me once, and it changed my life. So I'm a big believer in taking a chance in people…..that is, unles they give you reason not to." Harper revealed.

"Plus you have children. And you didn't shoot me and steal my stuff. That counts for something." She continued, gauging the faces staring back at her. She wasn't sure if it was shock or disbelief or simply exhaustion?

"Before we give you an answer, I need to know where you got those medical supplies. That's way more than a first aid kit," Rick's pupils shrunk into tiny pinpoints, hoping she wasn't just a skilled liar from Grady Memorial.

"I brought that kit with me because this was my first foray off the mountain where my cabin is and I had no idea what I might face out here. It's clear I was underprepared," Harper bristled, regretting her invitation.

"You're not with Grady?" Rick's entire being watched her.

"Is that the place Beth was shot? Of course not. I've been on my own since this began. You are the first people I've seen," Harper shrugged in annoyance, preparing to grab her things and head home. Without these ingrates.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I had to ask. You'll understand why after you've been out here awhile. But if you let us stay we'll earn our keep. Your trust will not be misplaced, I promise," Rick shook her hand, still not quite believing something this good could actually be happening to them.

"Rick, I'm not worried about paybacks or you earning your keep. But we are going to need more beds. Like I said, my place is small, and I don't want anyone sleeping outside," Harper did her best to assure them they were welcome to stay with her.

"Ma'am, we'll be fine outside or wherever. We have tents and we have the trucks," Rick scoffed at her naive concern.

"I'm not good with that, Rick. I've been lucky, but it's still too dangerous. Just as a suggestion, maybe we liberate a few of those camper vans. I must have passed a dozen of them on my way," Harper suggested.

"S'a good idea. We can handle that," Rick shook her hand, his eyes glistening with weariness and gratitude.

"It's fine Rick. Here, why don't you eat something. You look like you could use it," she passed him a packet of cellophane wrapped crackers. Rick looked at it and she could read it on his face. He was mentally divvying it up for Carl and Judith.

"Carl and Judith have both eaten." she assured him, but Rick still eyed it suspiciously. Only when Daryl nodded that she was telling the truth did Rick acquiesce, shoving in two crackers at once.

"You sure about this?" Rick gave her an out. But the look on all their faces gave her no choice.

"I am," Harper agreed, before her brain could think it through.

"Everyone, let's move ….before we lose what's left of the light," Rick ordered his people and like a weary battalion they all loaded up.

"Well, Bub, guess who's coming to dinner," Harper turned the ignition and reached over to fluff his golden fur. He was clearly thrilled by the prospect and smelled like baby. Harper prayed she was doing the right thing.


	2. Chapter 2 - Drinking and Sharing

**Chapter 2 - Drinking and Sharing**

 **THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD**

Harper led the haphazard little caravan back to her secluded cabin, located high in the remote Smoky Mountains. Even with the annotated maps, the return trip took five hours since they also had to steal the camper vans and then to navigate them up the steep switchbacks. It was pitch black by the time they reached the obscure dirt road that lead the last twenty miles up to her cabin.

"Almost there Bub," Harper stopped at the first security gate (which looked like little more than a dilapidated ramshackle farm gate but underneath the fake splintered wood was solid steel). She opened the gate, let everyone drive in, then locked it behind them…using a branch to try and cover up their tracks. It wasn't perfect, but at least it didn't scream out.

They repeated this procedure two more times before pulling into a large clearing….it was pitch black except for the headlights.

Harper cut the ignition, electing to pull her truck into the discrete garage when there wasn't so much attention on her. With a quick swipe on her phone, a series of external solar powered security lights glimmered to life, casting a warm glow all around.

Her partner and best friend, G, programmed it so she could practically start the toaster with her phone. But his real genius had been his foresight. Not that he anticipated the dead would start walking. No, it was that he foresaw the possible need to be completely autonomous and off the grid for an extended period of time. Which was why she had her own internet (wired and encrypted wireless) that couldn't be hacked into from the outside…..Not even by him. Someone would have to physically be there to access the servers.

"There you go Boyo," she opened the door and Bub raced across the field to his favorite hydrangea bush and took care of his own business. She, in turn, hurried towards the front porch, closing the distance between Rick and Daryl who quickly caught up with her.

"I told you it was small," Harper shrugged apologetically, assuming the look on their faces was disappointment. But then, she hadn't exactly bought the property to open a B&B. It was privacy, security and unique satellite access that sealed the deal…. and primarily why she was still alive. She'd even gone so far as to "train" the native Georgia cudzu to conceal the reinforced additions she'd added, leaving only the rickety porch and a filthy dormer window visible. Much of the interior square footage was actually built into the side of the mountain, leaving less to guard.

"No, it's fine," Rick was having trouble even finding the words for what he was thinking and feeling.

"Why don't you set the caravans up over there by the well. But first, let's get Carol and Beth inside and settled. We can work everything else out over a meal, yeah?"

She hurried up the porch steps to the door, with the express intention that Rick and Daryl not get a good look at what she was about to do. With another glance into the small circular mirror beside the door, disguised as decoration, she was able to assure herself the coast was clear. Only then did she flip up the piece of siding (it looked more like rotten wood), and her fingers tapped in the eight digit code on the cypher lock.

There was a momentary hum, followed by a series of softer clicks. Then a louder click which told her the door was fully unlocked. She opened the door just as Daryl strode up the stairs with Beth in his arms, and Rick right behind with Carol.

"Wow! This is…..unexpected," Carol's eyes lit up at the sight of the bright and contemporary interior, which was a stark contradiction with the exterior. The great room was far more expansive than it appeared from the outside, as was the entire cabin, since the majority was surrounded by the solid earth of the mountain. Only the porch was visible.

Dark shiny hardwood floors were softened by area rugs while the lamps and overhead lights cast a warm, inviting glow around the room. A slipcovered sofa, jazzed up with a few throw pillows, faced the large fireplace which dominated the far wall. Bookcases, bereft of books, surrounded the fireplace, and two club chairs, balanced out the room. The open kitchen island and dining area were on the opposite side of the room. It was Architectural Digest meets Appalachian cabin chic.

"Well I guess I never quite got around to fixing up the outside," Harper shrugged, not wanting to explain she'd started on the outside and spent quite a bit of money on this look.

"Put Carol on the sofa. Beth can rest upstairs in my bed," Harper instructed Daryl, who carried Beth up the stairs as if she weighed little more than a small child.

"Rick, I need to get supplies for Beth's transfusion. What you see is pretty much what there is, so feel free to make yourself at home. Carl and Judith can play over there if you want and there's food and drink…." Harper began to ramble….until she caught Rick's slight smirk.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I'm sure you can figure out where things are. Help yourself," Harper waved her hand across the room, then excused herself to the walk-in closet tucked rather neatly behind the stairwell.

If anyone walked in, it would look just like what it was. A walk in linen/supply closet with every shelf neatly stocked with towels, toilet paper, clean sheets, cleaning supplies, etc. But, after tapping another cipher lock hidden behind the light switch, the entire linen shelf swung open to reveal a hidden stairwell.

Harper hurried downstairs to the cellar and flipped on the lights, instantly illuminating, row after row of shelves – all full of supplies. Except her food shelves were noticeably bare. Bare for her, meant a few month's rations, but she wasn't the type of person who let things go to the last minute. But now was not the time to fixate on the state of her pantry so she grabbed a few more IV bags, pump, some tubing, needles, and everything else she needed before returning upstairs to where Beth lay limply on her large bed.

"I moved your fancy comforter over there. Just in case …." Daryl glared at the soft linen duvet with such loathing it momentarily took her aback.

"It's fine for now. But she'll need it when it gets cold tonight," Harper made sure to let him know she didn't put the care of her "things" over people. Refusing to waste another minute on his attitude, she returned her attention on Beth.

"Your pulse is already stronger. Aye, you're a tough one," Harper commended Beth who was in and out of consciousness. Daryl watched everything Harper did intently from the corner of the bed, all while gently stroking Beth's hand.

"She's as tough as they come."

"She sure is. So, how about we get her sister and get started? Maggie, right? Beth will improve faster after the transfusion."

She never even heard Daryl leave, but before she'd even fully prepped everything Maggie was right there behind her…..sleeve rolled up over her elbow and ready to go. Daryl right behind her.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD –**

"Ahhhh," Harper sighed and rested her head against the banister as she sat on her tiny side porch (basically a few steps and a back door) and stared up at the night sky. The past few hours she literally felt bombarded. It wasn't that she regretted for a moment welcoming them into her home. Best she could figure was, after living such a solitary existence for so long she was just out of practice. So, here she was, craving some alone time when just 24-hours ago she'd have given anything to have someone to talk to, to convince her she wasn't the last person alive.

She hadn't expected this. At least a dozen times tonight she'd been startled by a sound, or someone calling her name, or someone standing in the doorway. It left her brain spinning. All these people. And so much incomprehensible tragedy.

The giant moon hung low over the mountains in a gigantic hazy orb creating a weird magical feeling over the meadow. It reminded her of the stories of faeries and silkies and the like that Norah used to tell her.

"G? Are you staring up at this same moon? You better be!" She whispered up at the sky, picturing her best friend, adopted brother, and partner in crime, "G" (aka Grigori Attanov), secure in their home back in Wales…sitting there with a pint, equally exhausted from a house full of people.

Harper managed a smile as she recalled tonight's meal. Tyreese and Glenn extended the dining table with plywood and quickly fashioned sawhorses while Carol tried to "advise" Rosita and Tara on how to cook from her spot on the sofa. It wasn't long before Carol couldn't handle it, and gritted through the pain to sit on one of the barstools where she could dice and slice and otherwise take charge. And Harper hadn't eaten so well in over two years – amazed she even had the ingredients to make something so delicious Cooking wasn't exactly her forte, to put it mildly.

"Who's there?" Harper's moment was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes. Normally she wouldn't have thought twice about it, but after what she'd seen today she reached for her knife.

"Please….Please….don't be a zombie…..Please," Harper begged in a whisper under her breath as she silently took a step, balancing herself on the balls of her feet. She raised her knife and took another step.

And before she took a third, Bub bounded from the darkness.

"Oh….fer chrissakes Bub. You scared the shite out of me. Who let you out?" Harper choked out, unable to reverse the hit of adrenaline that now coursed through her blood.

She collapsed back onto her steps, Bub licking her hand in apology and rested his head in her lap. And slowly the simple act of stroking his fluffy warmth began to calm her down.

"The lad and lassie are a lot of work aren't they? I know, I know, and you don't mind a bit do you? That Judith has taken a real shine to you. But, you clearly know that already," she ruffled his fluffy neck fur then gave him a kiss on his snout before taking another sip (eh hem, gulp) of her wine She'd pulled out a case of Cabernet to celebrate with everyone tonight, and swiped one of the open bottles when she escaped. "G" had shipped the cases to her….along with truckloads of other supplies (food, medical, parts, disposable goods, etc…)

"Ya always talk ta yer dawg like that?"

Harper looked out into the darkness for the source of the voice, the telltale orange glow of a cigarette fifteen feet away giving it away.

"Daryl? Are you spying on me?" she called out into the night

Daryl slowly emerged out of the darkness.

"Naw…..just keeping a look out," Daryl sauntered over to her, leaning against the porch railing – his crossbow slung over his shoulder. And his bare biceps gleaming from sweat in the moonlight.

"I showed you the fences. We're secure up here," Harper had shown them the physical barriers, but not the full extent of her security system.

"Y'ain't ever secure. Some nights jus' better'n others s'all,"

"Wow! That's an interesting….and depressing way of looking at things. Did you ever think about writing cards for Hallmark."

"Here's to 'Some nights are jus' better'n others'…..Slainte," Harper grinned wryly then raised her glass and toasted. Daryl just stared at her.

"You took a shower. I can see your face now. It's a nice face," Harper spoke without knowing how uncomfortable it would make him.

"Yea, ehm sure." Daryl found himself mumbling awkwardly and shifting side to side.

"And, thank fer, …. what ya did fer Beth. An' Carol,"

"That's nice of you to say, Daryl, but completely unnecessary," Harper sipped, but when Daryl frowned she continued.

"Helping you wasn't a choice. How could it be? You needed help, and I was able to give it. The idea of driving off, once I knew Beth was bleeding out in that hot as hell truck? It makes me sick to even think about it. What I don't understand is why you still look at me the way you do?" Harper didn't mean to turn his thanks into an inquisition but she somehow had. When Daryl didn't answer, she tried another tactic.

"Beth's important to you," Harper probed, when Daryl didn't answer her.

"She's …..a friend,"

"I see."

"It ain't like that. I dunno….she's special. She can still see the good in this shit world," Daryl lit another cigarette, hoping Harper wouldn't press him He didn't know what he felt for Beth – all he knew was that his heart felt like it had been ripped from his body when she'd been snatched and then again when he'd watched Beth fall to the floor after Dawn shot her.

"This world needs those people."

"Did you know her before things…..'changed'? You know we really need a better name for it. I say 'apocalypse', 'went to shite', all these stupid euphemisms. Nothing just seems quite right to encompass how….devastating this is."

"The doc at the CDC said it was a virus…. called it Wildfire."

"The what ….said what? Run that by me again," Harper's eyes widened, her mouth agape.

"When we got overrun outside Atlanta…..and Rick thought the best bet was ta try the CDC. When we got there, it was only one guy left.

"You were at the CDC? What happened? Were they working on a cure?"

"Ain't no cure. When we got there, all but one of the doctors were dead. And the place was wired ta blow when the backup generator ran outta fuel. We got there the day before that happened," Daryl gave the short version.

"But you said they called it Wildfire?"

"Yep – and we all got it. Like sum virus, 'cept it aint. Ya don't even gotta get bit."

Harper couldn't wrap her head around this. How did the entire planet get infected? But in the end, it didn't really change anything.

"So, how did Beth get shot?"

Daryl looked at her like she was beyond stupid.

"Fine, let me rephrase. Explain how a young woman gets shot in a hospital, then rather than stay and get treated in said hospital, you decide the preferred course of action is to toss her in the back of the truck? That appears reckless. But you aren't reckless people, so the only thing that makes any sense is if staying at the hospital was more dangerous?"

"It ain't a real hospital….not like before. They run people down…kidnapped Beth...Forced her ta 'work just ta pay back the medicine and food she wouldn'ta needed if they hadn't taken her," Daryl's jaw began to pulse in fury as he relayed some of what Noah told him. Beth still refused to tell him how bad it really had been. But her exposed ribs told another story.

"That's bluidy sick. They did that to Beth? And Noah?" she shook her head in disgust. She'd thought she'd seen the depths of human depravity when she'd been forced to make her way on the streets of London. But she was clearly wrong. Could what was left of humanity sink any lower?

"Yeah. Beth was stuck there, cuz I gave up tryin' ta find her. That's on me. 'Bout a week ago me and Carol saw one of them cars with a cross on it, and followed 'em. We was about to go git Beth outta there when Carol got 'hit' by 'em." Daryl became agitated as he recalled that moment.

"What went wrong?"

"They took Carol so I had to go back fer Rick and the others. We came back and "borrowed" a few of the Grady security people to exchange fer ours. An' it worked. First we got Carol….then Beth. But before we got outta there, the bitch in charge changed the terms." Daryl's fists clenched as he recalled that moment. Why hadn't he picked up that something was off with Beth? If only he'd just carried her out of there, let Rick handle that bitch.

"So what did she want?"

"Noah. She wanted Noah back."

"Why? That doesn't make much sense," Harper frowned.

"I dunno. Cuz she was a crazy?" Daryl kicked the stairs.

"You really think that was it?"

"Yea….No, I dunno. Now that I think back, it seemed like it was more about Beth. Like it was a last sort of Fuck You to her?" Daryl mulled this over, while nibbling on his cuticle

"Before I could stop her, Beth pulled a shiv from her shirt and stabbed the bitch in the neck….. and got herself shot fer her trouble." Daryl left out the last bit, where he shot Dawn in the head.

"My God. If these are the kinds of people you come across at hospital, I guess I am pretty lucky you didn't shoot first and ask questions later," Harper blurted, surprising herself and Daryl at the admission.

"Yeah….well, strangers ain't exactly been good to us lately." Daryl couldn't bring himself to tell her about Terminus.

"I get that. But I brought you here, shared my home with you, yet you still don't trust me? I want to know why?" Harper turned and stared straight into Daryl's eyes, a startle tactic she'd learned from her dealings with a certain CIA agent.

"I don't ….." Daryl huffed - annoyed at being called out.

"Yes. You do. It's in the way you watch me. It's in the way you hesitate for a split second ….and it's in the way you're constantly waiting and watching …like you think I've got a team standing by, ready to ambush at any moment," Harper knew she was better at 'tells' than nearly everyone. It wasn't hubris or bravado or anything. It was simply a fact. The CIA tested her– then asked for her help on a job.

"It ain't you….exactly," Daryl turned away, nibbling on his thumbnail as he debated. If she was playin' him then tellin' her what he knew was stupid. But then again, she could have simply said she couldn't help them and driven off.

"So, what is it then? Exactly?"

"I already told ya. We've been burned and there ain't no way I'm ever gunna let it happen again. Not again," Daryl exploded up from the steps and began to pace. But he didn't leave, instead lighting another cigarette and inhaling deeply.

"So, your continued mistrust of me is what? An apocalyptic overabundance of caution? Or something else?" Harper watched Daryl as his lips pursed around the cigarette and he took another deep drag.

"Go on…. What is it? Why are you still so bluidy suspicious?" Harper coaxed and pressed….needing to know where she'd gone wrong.

"Fine! Ya wanna know what bothers me? Yer goddamned door fer starters! Who the hell puts a 20-bolt solid steel on a piece a shit like this? Unless it ain't?"

"For starters?" Harper snapped back, bristling at his assessment. She prided herself on being meticulous which made it rankle that he'd used the plural.

"Hell yeah. Ya also spent some serious coin tryin' ta make yer place look like a piece a shit. Ain't knockin' it, but s'all….fake. But when someone takes the time ta make nice shit look like crap, it's fer a reason," Daryl glared at her.

"So? My door? And the fact the outside looks a bit rundown but I keep the inside nice? That's not suspicious. Lazy, yes, but not suspicious," Harper mastered the art of nonchalance, and used it to her advantage.

"What about yer medical supplies. Ain't nobody carrying IV bags and fancy drugs like that these days. Then there's yer truck."

"Don't doctors alway carry supplies?" Harper wasn't a doctor (but she likely had as much trauma experience as many real doctors), but he didn't know that.

"And what's wrong with my truck?" Harper was impressed – and pissed.

"Ain't nuthin' wrong with it. It kick's ass. S'uparmored is all. Now that ain't sumthin' even a lazy, hermit, lady doc has," Daryl smirked, making it known her attempts to brush his concerns aside were a waste. He glared at her, curious as to how she would try and explain it all away.

"I underestimated you," Harper whistled, hoping a bit of flattery might soften Daryl up a wee bit. From the look on his face, it did nothing.

"You're right – I'm not a lazy agoraphobic lady doctor hiding out. But before I spill my guts, I think it's only fair if there was a little more quid pro quo around here." Harper was going to at least try and leverage her lapse into perhaps some more intel about the group.

"What the hellya talkin' 'bout…quad pro what? An' I ain't the one needs any explainin'," Daryl protested, annoyed that she wasn't more concerned by his allegations.

"Don't you? I think we could both explain a little. So? Quid ….Pro…. Quo?" Harper made the annoying error of speaking slow and loud, as if that somehow clarified things.

"It means "this for that". So, for example, I'll tell you why I made my place look like a dump …then you tell me something about your group?" she waited for him to agree. It took a few uncomfortable moments, but Daryl eventually shrugged and agreed.

"Ok, in the interest of continued goodwill, I'll go first. So, my so-called "piece'a shit 'shine-cabin", as you called it, is actually my hideout. A safe house of sorts." Harper began, enjoying the look of surprise on Daryl's face. Before she would never have even considered revealing this much…..but now, it seemed like she was telling a story about someone else from another life.

"Pffttt!" Daryl scoffed.

"You find that hard to believe?"

"Yeah….I do."

"Then you'd be wrong. The man that was after me was very rick and very powerful and sadistic and sick. He had nearly unlimited resources. So I knew if I targeted him I would need a secure, out-of-the-way place where I could lay low, for a few years if necessary." Harper took another gulp of wine, ignoring the little warning voice in her head to not overdo it…..with the wine and the whole sharing thing.

"Whatdya do? Piss off the mob? Don't fancy people like you just go ta the police when ya git in trouble?" Daryl frowned, returning to his spot on the steps opposite her, finding himself drawn in by her story even if he had a hard believing it.

"Fancy people? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know – how ya look….and talk," Daryl felt his cheeks redden and turned away.

"What are you talking about? I look like a bluidy beggar" Harper bristled at the suggestion. She'd not looked this bad since she'd been maybe thirteen or fourteen – before she'd met Nick and Norah. They'd spent tens of thousands of dollars on "tutors" to get rid of her thick brogue and give her the polished accent of the truly posh elite. Or the brilliant colorist who worked his magic weekly to make her hair glisten with perfect highlights – nothing trendy. And then, of course, the personal stylist who took a sadistic enjoyment in burning up their credit card on designer clothing. Nothing that screamed labels or nouveau. Just simple timeless bespoke designs made of exquisite cashmeres, cottons and linens. Synthetic was verboten. Nick even made her soak off the "tacky" acrylic nails she'd spent what precious little money she'd had at the time, in favor of pale pink polish over her newly manicured short oval nails. But looking back, for every penny they'd spent, it resulted in millions in return. The lesson? NEVER skimp on the up front cost of doing business.

"Well, ya shure as shit ain't from around here." Daryl countered.

"Wow! You really are the observant one of the group. Sorry, but last I heard, simply not being from Georgia doesn't make you 'Posh',"

"Don't matter what ya say. Ya just are. Like that Posh girl – the one married to that guy," Daryl shrugged, enjoying how this seemed to annoy her even more.

"By 'that guy', do you mean David Beckham, the footballer? Manchester United?"

Daryl stared blankly, no clue who she was talking about.

"So let me get this straight. You know about Posh Spice but you've no idea who Becks is?" Harper couldn't keep from grinning.

"Still ain't said where ya from, Princess?" Daryl leaned against the post, enjoying the way she bristled.

"It's not exactly a secret. I'm from Great Britain." She answered, but when he still had that blank look on his face, she clarified.

"You know – as in London,"

"Great. So yer Princess Di stuck out here in the sticks?" Daryl taunted, enjoying the way it irked her.

"Oh Stuff It." Harper didn't even bother to hide her eye roll.

"Whatever. Tell me why ya didn't go ta the cops?" Daryl added, knowing it would get a reaction.

"Fair enough. But it's my turn to ask you a question. You do remember the rules of quid pro quo right?" Harper had a feeling she would have to pull any information out of Daryl with pliers.

"You seem skiddish so I'll start off easy. How did you end up with this group of people?" Harper leaned forward, elbow and knees, and swirled the dark liquid in the glass as she watched him mull her simple question.

"I cain't hardly remember not knowin' 'em anymore," Daryl shook his head at the memories, while grinding his heel onto the cigarette butt – then he picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

"You police your butts?" Harper arched a brow, impressed.

"S'jus habit – can give ya away," Daryl dismissed her question and continued with his part of the deal.

"I met Glenn an' Carol first – a bunch'a us were on the highway outside Atlanta. Carl an' Lori were there too. Lori was Rick's wife. Anyway, roads were jammed, everyone tryin' ta git into Atlanta. Until they started fire bombing Atlanta. We stuck together ….found an isolated place by this old quarry. Fer a while we had fresh water, fish ….game. A few weeks later Rick walked inta camp." Daryl left out the part about him attacking Rick….and Rick leaving Merle on the roof.

"Like everywhere else, we got overrun. Didn't know where else ta go so we headed to the CDC. Stayed there a night, before it blew."

"You can't just stop there!"

But Daryl just stared solemnly at her, obviously done with his turn.

"Fine, but you are really lousy with this! So where was I? Oh yeah, you wanted to know why I didn't go to the cops?" Harper gave in.

"It's quite simple - you can't exactly go to the police when you are the thief. "Technically" the thief, that is. And that the people I stole from had the power of FBI, Senators, Interpol, MI-6…maybe even Mossad, but I keep hope that there is at least one decent bastion out there. Anyway, I knew I'd need a safe place where none of these agencies could find me," Harper explained, but it in no way conveyed the seriousness of her vulnerability. Sadly, she was in a sense safer with the demise of humanity – which was beyond messed up.

"That's a loada bullshit," Daryl snorted. But he couldn't deny he found the idea of it oddly intriguing.

"Why?" Harper snorted – another bad habit she'd thought she'd broken.

"Don't make sense. 'Sides ya don't look like no thief," Daryl found himself stammering to justify himself.

"Aye, well I'll take that as compliment. The best thieves don't, you know. Look like a thief that is" Harper couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes and accepted it as a compliment.

"Fine – so yer a thief. What'dya really steal? Shoes? Fancy purses? Lemme guess, jewelry?" Daryl still wasn't completely buying it.

"Now that's bluidy insulting. Shoplifting is not the same as being a proper thief, Daryl."

"Whatever. If yer such a good thief why ain't yer "hide out" sumthin' better than this shit hole shine cabin? Why not sumthin' better? With metal gates, loads of space," Daryl scoffed.

This time it was Harper's turn to glare back at Daryl. She was pissed that he didn't think she was capable of being a thief…..or, if she was, that shoplifting was the pinnacle of her ability. If this redneck bloke only knew the half of it – he'd eat his words and then some. But she wasn't in the mood to give him anymore right now, so she folded her arms and glared at Daryl. A standoff.

"We didn't know where ta go…after the CDC blew," Daryl took the hint.

"Decided ta try Fort Benning. We kept ta farm country - tryin' ta make our way on the back roads." Daryl found himself a little more comfortable in his memories.

"Anyway, one 'a the guys had this ol' piece a shit RV. An' we broke down out in the middle of nowhere. While we was tryin' ta fix it… we got overrun again by a herd…bigger'n anything we'd ever seen. S'how Carol lost her little girl an' Carl got shot. Beth and Maggie's daddy, Hershel, took us in," Daryl choked up, unable to purge that image of the Governor beheading the gentle man.

"The Greene's farm was safe an' we had water and food. And Hershel was a vet so he was able to patch up Carl."

"He sounds like a great man," Harper agreed, not wanting to ask why he wasn't still with them. There was only one likely answer.

"He was," Daryl agreed. But he didn't continue – telling her that it was her turn again.

"Ok, I get it"

"Ya were s'plainin' who ya stole from – who ya were so afraid of that ya lived in this shit hole," Daryl prompted.

"You can stop calling my home a shite hole any time you like," she scolded. "Fine, so you want to know what I stole right? Other than shoes and purses?"

"Well, I did shop lift as a child. Out of necessity I helped myself to shoes….clothes….. books. I was nine….and I was good. I never got caught – at least not by the coppers." She turned her eyes to him, enjoying the look of surprise.

"Until Norah caught me lifting her wallet, and recognized my unique "talents". She was in her fifties at the time and, in my humble opinion, is the best professional thief that ever was. She and her husband Nick took me in to their home, and raised me better than I deserved. I wasn't the only one. After me, they found themselves taking others in. Maybe it was the fact they were officially retired from the biz, or as much as they could be. But they were the biggest softies Anyway, the first rule they taught me, is NEVER get caught. More important, they taught me to set my sights higher than swiping a pair of trainers. They sent me to proper school. Which meant no more picking pockets or running short cons on my class mates. They taught me the art of the long con. Like targeting billionaire assholes and hitting them where it hurts – ideally relieving them of items they couldn't report as stolen," Harper allowed herself a moment of nostalgia.

"I don't git why ya did it though? Ya don't sound like ya needed the money? So ya just stole shit cuz ya wanted ta?"

"You don't need to be a dick about it. And I wasn't some rich girl walking on the wild side either!" Harper glared into Daryl's eyes.

"I get that you grew up ….how do you call it? Dirt poor? But you, at least, could hunt and get food on your own. I was alone and poor on the streets of London. You can't exactly whip out a crossbow and hunt. So I did what I had to. I'm guessing we both did," Harper snapped.

"Yer family?" Daryl felt like a douche for asking, but he did anyway.

"My mum died when I was …..I dunno…. four or five, best I can remember. We didn't' even get to bury her proper. All I knew was my Da took me away that night. I didn't put it together at the time, but looking back he was so scared of someone. We were always moving from place to place, sleeping in our car when we had to. He tried to make it fun…like a game, and after a while, I got used to it. But one night, a few years later…..I think I was seven…. Da went 'out' and left me alone in the hotel. We were flush at the time, so we were staying in a really nice hotel. Except my Da didn't come back. I waited and waited…..well past my bedtime. Then the door lock began to rattle. I knew if it were my Da the lock would never rattle – I'd never have heard him. He was a pro too. I snuck out onto the balcony – swung down to the suite below and ran like hell. A few days later, I found out my Da'd been killed," Harper swallowed. It was hard going back to that place in her life….something she'd thought she'd grown past.

Daryl's chin cocked up in interest. This was clearly not what he'd expected.

Harper paused and took another deep gulp of wine, trying to decide if she should have revealed as much as she had. What was it with the loose lips tonight? Maybe it was the wine? Or the fact she was talking to an actual human being. And once she started talking, things she'd never have told anyone other than the team, just came tumbling out. Truth be told, it felt good. And then there was the way Daryl looked at her, his blue eyes like warm pewter in the moonlight.

"Ya been on yer own since yer Pa passed?" Daryl frowned, starting to feel an odd kinship with her.

"I was on my own for about a year or so, until Nick and Norah took me in. I guess I did ok for a child living alone on the streets of London. My Da may have been a different sort of Da, but if he hadn't been I don't know if I would have made it. In addition to picking locks, he also made sure I did my studies. At the end of the day, he was a con man, and taught me – starting with how to read people. He'd point out people on the Tube or in a cafe and ask me to make up a story about them. Soon I could pick out coppers, the cheating husbands, the 'working girls', the spooks, the bounders. At the time it was just a game," Harper managed a slight smile.

"So that's how ya became a thief?" Daryl frowned. It still seemed far-fetched to him.

"No – my Da taught me how to survive….shoplifting…picking locks….knowing who to stay away from. Norah was the one that caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. I was terrified – I knew that it was straight to child services for me. But Norah didn't do that. Rather than yell for the coppers, she leaned down and whispered, 'You've got a natural talent, but you're too slow. You need practice.' Instead she and Nick took me in, loved me, and raised me like I was their own. But I wasn't like a regular child and they weren't regular parents."

"They were the best. They sent me to school but they also taught me and the others everything they knew," Harper took another sip and paused.

"So yer some big shit fancy thief. How's that better an' people like my bruther? Stealin's stealin'." Daryl grunted.

"Oh for fuke's sake, Daryl. First, I never said I was better than anyone. And second, you should know that stealing isn't always stealing. Sometimes it can be recovering things that don't belong to them."

"All this talkin' and ya still ain't told me shit. Like who was after ya and whether he came close ta findin' ya?" Daryl protested, unnerved by her resistance.

"An' how long were ya here before…..?" Daryl didn't need to finish.

"Before the dead started walking? Maybe six months."

"What the hell did ya take ta need a place like this?" Daryl ground impatiently.

"Impatient much? Fine. It's not like it matters now anyway. The mark's name was Jurgen Van Der Wick." Harper announced, but when Daryl showed no recognition…she explained.

"He was the 10th wealthiest man in the world and the primary shareholder and CEO of VDW Holdings. And my team and I relieved him of a few million in bearer bonds and $300k or so in cash from the safe in his house. I then transferred $900 million from his offshore accounts into over a hundred other accounts– and from those accounts the money went travelling around the world, until even the best forensic accountant would throw up their hands. But the biggest damage was to his portfolio which lost him over $4 billion."

"Damn!" Daryl whistled. "That's a shit-load of money."

"Aye, it was. But the real score was the art and jewelry that he definitely had no right to have. Have you ever heard of Nazi plunder? He had two Rembrants, a Chagall, a couple of Matisse's. And the jewelry. The fact that I took those really pissed him off and messed with his head. And a crazy man can be a very dangerous man."

"Even after all that, he was still one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. He also had a direct line to the FBI, over a dozen Senators….even the President. The SEC tried to take him down for insider trading, money laundering, rate setting…..the works. They had mounds and mounds of evidence but rather conveniently, the Director of the FBI worked out a deal with Justice and they ended up settling it as a civil issue for a few billion in penalties. That's a fraction of a quarter's profits for VDW. They cut a check and wrote it off as the cost of doing business, and by the end of the week he was playing a round of golf with the President," Harper leaned back, still pissed at how slanted the table was….had always been. The only ones that seemed to really "get it" were her contacts cum friends at the CIA. The only thing truly democratic it turned out, was this Wildfire virus.

"So, did he come after ya?" Daryl was curious.

"He tried of course. I do know his chief of security was working night and day to find me. And he had no less than fifty people looking and I don't know how many private agencies. Which is why I couldn't afford to make even the tiniest mistake. Even something as simple as driving down to buy milk could have been the end. That's why I chose this pieca-a-shite shine cabin rather than something fancier. Anything nicer would have led to questions. The fancier places were all in developments. That would mean neighbors….people coming over, wanting to visit. Maybe a security guard that could be bought off. And building something fancy up here wouldn't have exactly gone unnoticed. And the whole point was to lay low until I could skip out."

"What'dya do with all that money?" Daryl couldn't even really wrap his head around that much cash.

"I'll answer that. But I think it's your turn. If I recall, you were at the Greene's…." Harper prompted, looking to Daryl to continue.

"Things were all right at the farm…as good as things could be. But one night….this swarm of walkers overran the farm. At the time we ain't seen nuthin' like it, even worse than on the highway. It was like ants at a goddamn picnic. Just grabbed what we could and ran….and ran…and ran. For months. We'd find a place…stay a night or two….then move on. Until we found the prison. It wasn't easy, but we cleared it of walkers. Made it safe….made it a….." Daryl stopped himself before he said 'home'.

"It was all fenced so it was secure. We planted crops in the fenced area. Rick started tendin' pigs and a few goats. Even had us a proper clinic. And ….. guns. Lotsa guns – cuz as soon as ya git sumthin' good there's gunna be someone right behind ya ready ta take it from ya."

"Is that what happened? Someone took it from you?" Harper found herself engrossed yet again, propping her elbows on her knees and cradling her chin as she waited for more.

"We lost it…..but damned if we gunna let 'em have it. It was that one-eyed mutherfucker! Called himself The Governor," Daryl's voice cracked and he struggled to take a few breaths.

"He rolled right up ta our doorstep…. cuz I quit lookin'. He'd tried before an' we kicked his ass. But this time he had a goddamned tank. Stood on top of it…. demanded we give him the prison. Then he dragged Michonne and Hershel out. Murdered Hershel right there, in front of Beth and Maggie an' all'a us. All hell broke loose and we had no choice but ta run. Me and Beth managed to stay together but we didn't know where the others were," Daryl spat, leaving out the more intimate moments he and Beth shared, which he was still trying to deal with. Daryl grabbed her bottle of wine and greedily gulped the rest.

"He who finishes the bottle has to go grab another," she handed him the wine opener, definitely in the mood to get more than a little tipsy. With this many people in the house to keep an eye out, she felt like she deserved it. And truthfully, she was having a really good time with him. Daryl didn't bat an eye and returned in less than a minute with a full bottle. Which made her notice he'd now blamed himself twice for what happened.

"So? Are you still suspicious of me? Now that you know I live in this "shite hole" because I'm a thief and not part of some ruse to trap you in my lair?" Harper chuckled, knowing she couldn't really do much about it anyway. It was the truth.

"I dunno….I mean, I don't s'ppose ya would tell me yer a thief if ya were lyin'. At least, you don't gotta worry 'bout anyone comin' after ya now."

"No, I don't suppose I do," Harper snagged the bottle back, refilled her glass then handed it back to Daryl.

"So, enough with the suspicion?"

"I s'ppose," Daryl finally conceded. And they drank the rest of the bottle together.


	3. Chapter 3 - Security

**Chapter 3 - Security**

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD –**

Harper's eyes slammed open and the pale streams of sunlight told her it was far earlier than she wanted. Her head pounded slightly, the predictable result of her overindulgence last night. Despite the pounding, she forced herself to sit up, confused and disoriented by the commotion coming from downstairs. It took her a few seconds to remember yesterday's events and that she had, in fact, invited all these people into her home.

The hum of conversation from below began to build. But there was also the fragrant waft of fresh brewed coffee combined with the mouthwatering smell of bacon, cinnamon and vanilla.

"Bluidy bluidy hell. This cannot be happening," Harper plopped back down and pulled the pillow over her head to block out the noise, but it was a futile effort. The coffee and the delicious smell made her tummy rumble, and the noise was only building. She finally gave up, and sat back up, raking a hand through her long hair which tumbled in messy chestnut waves around her shoulders.

"Do you always wake up like this?" Beth managed to croak, her eyes barely slivers as she too tried to block out the sunlight.

"Oh, Krikey! It's you Beth!" Harper.

"Who did you think it was in your bed?" Beth eyed her, her lips curling up in amusement.

"Honestly? I thought it was Bub. Granted, he doesn't usually talk back. But still, he's warm, he hogs the covers and he has tons of blonde hair." Harper teased.

"Stop it. I don't look like a dog….Oh, God, I probably do? And that's actually unfair to Bub, since he looks way better," Beth weakly protested until Harper began laughing. Beth frowned in confusion but soon she was giggling along with Harper…..until her laughter morphed into a pained grimace.

"Here, press down," Harper immediately rushed to her side, placing the bed pillow firmly on Beth's abdomen and applied gentle pressure talking Beth through how to slowly breathe through the pain.

"Oh my God. What's wrong Beth? Are you ok?" Maggie burst into the loft bedroom, carrying a tray loaded with pancakes, bacon, canned fruit and hot coffee.

"It's ok Maggie, she's fine. It was just a laughing pain," Harper assured the overprotective sister.

"Oh Beth, you look…. so much better," Maggie set the tray down and rushed to Beth's side, kissing her sister's forehead, her cheek lingering to check that Beth's fever was down. It was. And she was no longer pale as a ghost. A hint of color tinged her cheeks.

"I feel better…thanks to you…and to Harper," Beth assured her older sister.

"Beth, ….." Maggie was speechless, her eyes watering.

"Come, eat! You need to build up your strength," Maggie set the food tray across Beth's lap, balancing it precariously atop the pillow.

"Oh my God. I haven't seen this much food since….I can't even remember," Beth's blue eyes were now saucers.

"Maggie, I can't possibly eat all this," Beth sighed, the automatic reflex from her time at Grady instantly making her nauseous. But she forced herself to sit up and at least try, desperate to get stronger as fast as possible.

"Well, if you can't then I'll be glad to help," Harper stabbed the stack of fluffy pancake triangles.

"This is delicious. I didn't even know I had frozen cakes," Harper rolled her eyes in the back of her head, savoring the mouth feel of the delicious syrup covered morsels.

"These aren't from the…freezer….Harper," Maggie frowned, and spoke very slow as if Harper was the village idiot.

"You've never made pancakes before? You know? Flour? Sugar? Baking Soda?" Maggie rattled off ingredients one at a time figuring Harper would have her 'aha' at any moment. She didn't.

"How have you never made pancakes?" Maggie finally huffed, unable to believe Harper had survived this long on her own. The Lord looked after children and idiots, was all she could come up with..

Beth peered over Maggie's shoulder struggling to hide her grin while Harper mimicked Maggie's every condescending word. Beth started to lose it, but Harper waved a warning finger from behind Maggie's back.

"It's been ages since we've had food or even a kitchen so Carol is in heaven downstairs. I don't think she's ever going to leave," Maggie joked, oblivious to the shenanigans going on around her.

"If she keeps making food like this, then I'll chain her there myself," Harper scooped up another forkful.

Beth took the fork and helped herself, having to consciously allow herself to enjoy – a stark contrast from what she'd permitted herself to eat at Grady. She'd starved herself as much as she dared, purposefully dulling her taste buds to quench her hunger….but this was an explosion of flavor in her mouth.

"Told ya it was good, lass. Now eat up, so you can get out of me bed," Harper found she enjoyed teasing Beth, as she lapsed into her father's brogue.

"Don't you listen Beth. You rest as long as you need," Maggie glared accusingly at Harper.

"I'm going to head downstairs. Maybe force Carol to explain this witchcraft she performs with what did you say? Flour, baking soda and sugar?" Harper winked at Beth as she made fun of Maggie behind her back..

"Enjoy your breaky, but I'll be back to change your dressing. And if you're up for a shower, you can take one," Harper suggested. The look of sheer delight on Beth's face was all the confirmation she needed.

Harper quickly pulled on a grey v-neck t-shirt over her white cami before pulling on denim jeans then bounded down the stairs, oddly energetic despite her hangover.

She paused at the base of the stairs, taking a moment to take in all the craziness that was happening in front of her. It was a frantic, glorious, chaotic sight all around. People milled about in her tight quarters, talking, arguing and eating. Judith played with her pancakes at the kitchen island, while Carl watched over her.

"Carol, your pancakes are the best thing I've eaten in ages. I thank you! And my stomach thanks you," Harper navigated the crowd and gently kissed the petite woman's temple, careful to avoid her ribs or shoulders.

"It was a treat to cook again….in your amazing kitchen. And you have more than enough dry goods to make pancakes for at least a year," Carol assured her. She'd found bags and bags of flour, sugar, rice, beans, etc. Things G had delivered but Harper had no idea what to do with.

"Well, my belly is full….thanks to you. So I'm officially pulling rank. You…. Sit…..Now! Do you take coffee or tea?" Harper wouldn't take no for an answer and Carol found herself gently escorted to the nearest chair, bristling a bit at being ordered about. And there was one thing she knew she had plenty of was both coffee and tea, G knowing if there was anything she'd risk capture for it would be caffeine.

"Here, it' your turn to eat. Eat a few bites before you take these. I'll do clean up," Harper tapped out two pain pills then handed the rest of the bottle to Carol along with a glass of reconstituted apple juice. Carol eyed the medication suspiciously but she obediently swallowed them with a nod of thanks.

"Did you sleep well? It must have been odd being in a strange place," Harper chatted while she scrubbed.

"We did. Thanks. And your place is one of the least strange places we've slept actually," Rick was the first to answer as he joined in, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the stainless steel carafe.

Harper eyed Rick, having difficulty wrapping her head around how different he looked. More than the bath and trimmed beard, Rick seemed more relaxed…a sort of softness now around all those chiseled edges.

"I'm glad. Oh, there's Bub," Harper caught the blaze of golden fur through the kitchen window. She watched as Carl laughed and threw the ball to her ecstatic dog.

"Bub's in second heaven having your lad and lass around." She nodded to Rick as she topped off his coffee.

"The treat is mine … to see Carl play ….to act his age. And Judith," Rick swallowed with difficulty. Michonne, sensing Rick's discomfort walked over to join them.

"Good morning Harper. When you're finished, I was hoping we could maybe talk logistics. Rick mentioned something about connecting the RV's to the well?" Michonne poured herself another cup of coffee, itching to get busy.

"Definitely. The four wells are powered by the wind turbines. But we'll need PVC and some flex hose to connect to the RVs. I was also thinking, depending on how long you plan to stay, we should consider dropping a septic tank and a drain field. But until then, we can dig a latrine and dump the grey and black water…..cover it nightly." Harper rattled off the steps, having already gone through it when she and G built the house on the Isle.

"We'll get started on that pit right away," Michonne assured Harper, vibrating with unspent energy. Harper couldn't help but be reminded of Giada….her fiesty, temperamental, militant job runner with a heart of gold. Giada was her adopted-sister and best friend in nearly every sense of the word.

Before Harper even put the dishes away, Rick assigned tasks and everyone went to work. Moving, digging, carrying… nobody was idle other than Beth.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD –**

"Rick….a moment?" Harper sought him out shortly after lunch, where he was overseeing the progress.

"Something wrong?" he frowned, instantly going on the alert.

"God no. Why would you say that?"

"Sorry….just habit," Rick sheepishly swiped his fingers through his hair.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"Security. If you're going to stay here….then we should probably go over the details of the security," Harper found herself swaying side to side, unable to completely shake the sliver of doubt that perhaps she should keep it to herself a while longer. Or maybe, it was just because she hadn't let anyone into her inner sanctum in so many years, other than her team (her "family"), that it felt foreign.

"S'everythin' alright?" Daryl sauntered over.

"Yea…..Harper, just wanted to talk about security," Rick explained.

"We've already got it covered….have watches 24/7," Daryl seemed irritated, as if she were questioned their ability.

"No Daryl. I'm talking about the security I have in place. I wanted to go over it with Rick, so that you knew what we already had and didn't waste resources by duplicating effort, or inadvertently stumbling over each other," Harper snipped back, becoming equally irritated.

"We saw the fences…." Daryl shrugged, not all that impressed.

"Oh for the love of God. Fine. Nevermind. This was a mistake anyway," Harper turned on her heel, storming back towards the cabin. What was she thinking, sharing this level of information with them.

"Whoa Whoa! Harper, hold up. Daryl didn't mean it like that ok? We're sorry," Rick ran to catch up with her, glaring at Daryl to stop antagonizing her.

"I wouldn't want to waste your time," Harper huffed sarcastically at Daryl, wanting him to squirm at least a little.

"Harper?" Rick prompted.

"All right. Follow me," Harper lead the way into her cabin, and headed straight towards the corner.

Rick and Daryl looked around in confusion.

"Ya brought us in here ta show us yer stairs?" Daryl snorted, not entirely sure why he enjoyed antagonizing her so much.

"Can you be patient for just two seconds?" she snapped. This time she didn't try to hide her actions as she slid up the raised panel (which had been fashioned to look exactly like part of the woodwork). She tapped in the code and waited. Seconds later the 4-ft wall slid open.

"What the fuck?" Daryl jumped back, immediately pulling his knife.

"Settle down, Daryl. You won't need that," Harper rolled her eyes and led the way into her secret "comm" room. This portion of the house was built into the side of the mountain, impenetrable on all sides.

"What the hell is this place?" Rick looked around, stupefied. One entire wall of the windowless room was lined with flat panel monitors, all streaming live security feed.

"That's what I was trying to tell you. This is the hub of my security system. These are the live feeds from the security cameras. They're arranged into three zones around the cabin. There are also motion sensors, and a night vision feed. And here are those fences you mentioned." Harper turned to the other wall where a larger touch screen dominated. She ran her fingers over what looked like a satellite image and instantly the cabin lit up as a yellow square, while the three perimeters lit up as red, green and blue lines.

"I don't….how….how is this even possible?" Rick stared around in amazement.

"It's possible because my friend "G" is brilliant. He designed all of this and the reason it works is because it's all off the grid…sort of. Sometimes I even have satellite access. Basically, it's like a self-contained internet….so it can't be hacked. Self-contained and self-powered." She continued her explanation.

"How do you have these cameras?" Rick turned again, fascinated by the images, watching as Harper showed taught him how to zoom in.

"Battery powered, with solar charges. Still, I need to change them out once a year. That's my one big risk – having to go out and change them. But then it was a risk to not have them either." Harper continued.

"I can't even wrap my head around this," Rick felt a bit like he was back at the CDC.

"Is this happenin' …like right now?" Daryl started to become excited as he watched a large buck and a few smaller deer exit from one monitor then reappear on another a few moments later.

"How do I know where that is?" Daryl asked, practically salivating. Though, a part of him, felt a bit like this was cheating. But the thrill of a successful hunt overrode those concerns.

"Each camera has a number. That one is #19. Tap here, and it takes you to map view. The deer is 19.4 km away."

"How far?"

Harper tapped the screen again to switch units. " Not quite 12 miles, just between the middle and outer perimeter"

"Hey Rick? Rick?" Glenn's voice echoed through the house.

"Holy Shit! What is this?" Glenn slowly entered the comm, looking like Alice entering Wonderland.

"Are these motion activated?" Glenn gravitated towards the interface, needing little instruction.

"How do you differentiate between walkers or animals?" Glenn whistled under his breath.

"Anything over 5 psi triggers a notification. As you can see, most are small animals. It's programmed so that anything over 50-lb triggers a warning on my phone. Anything over 80-lb triggers an alarm."

"This is incredible. You've got eyes onn what? Over a 10-mile radius?" Glenn was like a kid in a candy store.

"Is that true?" Rick still wasn't sure what this all meant but Glenn's euphoria told him this was a big deal.

"On the outer perimeter, the video coverage isn't 100%, just the entrances. But the middle and inner are." Harper assured them.

"Rick…..this is….amazing. With one person on watch here, we'd have better coverage than all of us on watch," Glenn proclaimed.

"You think we oughta be in here watchin' tv rather than bein' out there?" Daryl scoffed.

"Daryl? The best we can do is keep watch a few hundred yards out. Unless we build watch towers - and even those would be spotty AND dangerous. But from this room, we've got a 15-mile 360 degrees heads up. But hey, we could still do it your way?" this time it was Glenn's turn to snark.

"Glenn!" Rick held up a hand.

"I'm just not ready to put all our eggs in this digital basket. I wanna do both? We'll use the computers for the exterior perimeter watch, but still keep watch eyeballs on the cabin area. I also want to put up a blind between perimeter 1 and 2, with radio contact." Rick decided, taking a step closer to stare at the images. This was good….really good. And that scared the shit out of him.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD –**

 _Later that night, after dinner_

"Ya made Glenn's day. He's still in there playin' with them computers," Daryl sauntered over to Harper's spot on the back steps. This was becoming a pattern, if two nights were a pattern.

"Yeah….but not you. I'd have thought you….of all people, would be the most excited," Harper sipped her wine, frowning at the perplexing man.

"Why's that? That shit ain't exactly my thing," Daryl slid his crossbow off his shoulder.

"It's obvious. You're the group's protector. I've known you all of two days and even I know that's not just who you are….it's what you are. I guess I just assumed you'd see the utility of it," Harper shrugged and sipped again.

"S'ppose I don't trust it. Seen people slip in an' out of camera view more'n a few times."

"I 'ken that. But when people avoid getting nicked by the camera, it's usually because they know they're there. What's the likelihood that someone, out here in the middle of nowhere, is going to try and avoid video cameras. Most of which are nearly impossible to see."

"Rick's plan's alright," Daryl ceded and sat beside her, grabbing the bottle of wine he knew would be resting on the third step.

"Aye. A regular Solomon he is," she continued, gesturing with her wine in one hand, not quite sure why she was in such a mood.

"You don't like it?"

"No, it's fine. Seems a bit redundant to use the digital security and still keep watch, but as long as I don't have to do it….," Harper smirked, then swatted his bicep.

"You don't gotta do jack shit if ya don't wanna. Y'already done more'n….," Daryl looked away.

"That wasn't my point. And thank God, Glenn's taken to the comm, because I can't bear to sit at those screens all day. He's already assigning schedules. Tyreese is a natural, and of course Eugene. But I swear to God, if Eugene tries to reprogram or otherwise "improve" my system again, I'm going to mangle him."

"You know, I like talking to you. Which is strange - because most of the time you piss me off," Harper found herself ruining a perfectly good compliment.

"Y'ain't all that bad - er may'be its yer booze," Daryl snickered.

"Shut up!" Harper laughed, swatting his bare bicep.

"I do have really good booze don't I?" Harper turned and agreed, their eyes meeting in the moonlight.


	4. Chapter 4 - Earning our Keep

**Chapter 4**

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD –**

 _One month later_

Despite the initial chaos, it wasn't long before Rick's group settled at Harper's into a cautious yet comfortable routine. They still had to manually pump water into the camper van tanks with the portable pump, which meant people by and large still took their showers at Harper's cabin. But the bright side was they were taking showers every day. Hot showers.

And the camper vans did take much of the edge off the cramped quarters of her cabin, and that reflected in everyone's mood. Abraham had even started working on the rough beginnings of a "mess hall" of sorts where they could eat meals and gather without stepping on top of each other. Right now it was little more than footings, but the way this group got things done, Harper had little doubt it would be finished in short order.

But the fact that they had food, a place to sleep, a renewed sense of safety and security, and that Beth and Carol were getting better by the day were the primary reasons for everyone's renewed good spirits.

Harper leaned on the porch railing as the morning sun warmed her cheeks, looking over all they'd accomplished. Then she bounded down the porch steps behind Bub, tossing the last morsel of muffin into her mouth.

Before Rick's group arrived, she rarely ventured outside. But now she enjoyed strolling around the meadow (which Glenn insisted they call P1 on the radio). Even the hen house they'd built wasn't as terrifying since Beth and Maggie taught her to properly gather eggs. Of course that was after she'd been caught terrorizing the hens by covering them with pillowcases so they couldn't get at her and she could gather the eggs without them going all Hitchcock on her. Needless to say, that small act of, what she considered brilliant self-preservation, was followed by merciless teasing by pretty much everyone. Mere moments ago at breakfast Carl showed up with a pillowcase on his head, clucking and flapping his arms. Everyone found it especially hysterical, particularly Judith …..and Daryl.

Ah, Daryl. She couldn't seem to shake him from her thoughts lately. What was wrong with her? He wasn't even her type? She tended to go for the unattainable (so check that box) but Daryl certainly didn't meet her usual wealth criteria. Or the status criteria. Or the far higher hurdle, the intelligence criteria. And that wasn't IQ, because Daryl was uncannily smart. It was, who did he know in the intelligence circles that could be beneficial to her? But the way her body reacted whenever he was near had complete and utter disregard for her usual critera. She leaned against the fence and smiled as she watched the hustle and bustle all around, trying not think about her 'criteria'. Abraham and Eugene seemed to be once again arguing about the best way to lay out the new mess hall and Carl was pushing Judith around in the wagon with Bub chasing behind, while Tyreese worked patiently to build a sandbox. The see-saw and swing was already a wild success, even with the adults.

"Yo, Harper," she jumped, startled out of her reverie. She spun around to find Rick and Daryl marching her way, looking quite satisfied with themselves. The way they did quite often these days.

"Hey Rick. How's it going? What amazing thing have you built today?" she laughed. It felt good to laugh. Like an atrophied muscle coming back to life.

"Nothing since the swingset. And of course Abraham and Eugene are about to kill each other over the mess hall. But other than that things are going well. I expect s'what making me so nervous," Rick admitted.

"Seriously? All this and no less than five people on watch at any given time! You know I have a yoga DVD you can borrow because you are seriously stressed?" Harper teased, still not completely comprehending his extreme paranoia.

"It's an goddamn RV…stop callin' it a camper van," Daryl snapped, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, whatever," she rolled her eyes bigger if that was possible.

"I'm sorry, it's just with our track record, I have a hard time…. Nevermind. It doesn't matter. That's not actually what we came to talk to you about. We need to talk about something else…." Rick found himself starting to stammer.

"That sounds rather ominous? You're starting to scare me," Harper frowned, shoving her thumbs in her pockets.

"Oh no. I mean. It's not….or I think it shouldn't. It's just….." Rick hemmed and hawed some more.

"It's about yer food supply, H. We know we're makin' a dent in it a mile wide and I ain' been huntin' enough ta keep up," Daryl stepped up, frustrated by Rick's sudden reluctance.

"Rick, I was well aware how many of you I was inviting here And from what I've recently learned, with the bags of flour, sugar and baking powder I didn't know I had, apparently we can live off pancakes for a bluidy long time. Which I'm pretty alright with," Harper joked, feeling rather pleased that she had more food than she thought. And they hadn't even touched the dried beans and rice yet, but that she wasn't quite so excited about.

"That's very generous, and don't think that I don't like pancakes as much as the next person. But Daryl told me the other day why you were out on the highway….. the day we all met. You were out looking for more food. And that was when it was just yourself." Rick's blue eyes were full of guilt.

"We're eating you out of house and home, and we know it. Yet you still took us in. You've shared everything you had. And now we need to repay that debt," Rick snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Rick, I only went out there because I'm a dumb arse and I didn't know I had as much food as I do. And second, this isn't the first time I've been hungry. Hunger I can handle. But sending people back out there when we don't have to? That I can't stomach," Harper shook her head…missing the glance between Rick and Daryl.

"Well you'd better suck it up and learn to! Because that's what we're going to do. And its what we're good at. Now Daryl mentioned you had a lead on a place that might still have some food?" Rick couldn't believe he was finding himself actually antsy and itching to get back out there. Rick felt like a druggie jonesing for a fix.

"I can't. Besides it was just a hunch, Rick. I don't even know if there is anything there. What if it's a wild goose chase? Worse? What if someone gets hurt? How could I live with that?" Harper bit her lip. It was one thing when she'd been out there risking her own life. But to risk their lives on little more than a guess?

"Harper, everything is a hunch these days. Hell we're lucky to even have a hunch. Nine times outta ten it's just running and reacting. The other is reacting then running. But if it was enough of a hunch for you to be out there, then that's good enough for me," Rick shrugged off her concern.

"Well, it's not for me. It makes me sick to my stomach. We should at least try to figure something else out. Something less dangerous. What about planting the fields? We've already got the chickens….we could add to that? Goats? Cattle? Christ, didn't the Pilgrims do this?" Harper desperately brainstormed.

"Most of them died." Daryl reminded but Rick wasn't pleased by the history lesson.

"Those are good long term solutions. Decent ones that I want to implement. But they all take time that we don't have – at least six months. But we need to restock the canned goods….to get us to at least one harvest. That is, if we're gonna stand a snowball's chance in hell of making it here long term. Bottom line is we need more food right now," Rick's blue eyes bored into hers and it suddenly dawned on Harper that Rick was actually willing to build something here.

"Fine, I'll tell you where I was heading. I was going to Sysco. They had a warehouse that's supposed to be about fifteen miles from where we met on the highway," Harper explained.

"A computer company," Rick frowned, clearly perplexed.

"Not Cisco. S-Y-S-C-O. As in the food distributor?" Harper explained. How did she know this and they didn't?

"They deliver bulk food to hospitals, prisons, restaurants …... Let's just hope that everyone else thought it was a computer warehouse like you. But it could still be cleaned out. The employees might have taken everything? Like I said, it's a longshot," Harper couldn't help but caveat.

"And I promised you we'd earn our keep, Harper. Which is why we're going back to that warehouse tomorrow. All we need is for you to give us the location," Rick fought the glimmer of hope that he just might be able to give his son and daughter a life here? A good life. A decent life.

"You don't need the location. Because I'm going with you," Harper stared back at Rick and Daryl.

"Bullshit! Ain't no way!" Daryl protested so vehemently, Rick had to calm him down.

"That's really not necessary, Harper. Just give us the address and the map. It's not an insult, but we have the experience for this…and you don't. Bringing you along only puts everyone at risk," Rick didn't mean to be patronizing. It was just the truth.

"I don't know what Daryl told you, but this isn't my first B&E," Harper's silver eyes flashed angrily at Daryl.

"Yeah well, a B&E isn't quite the same thing and the circumstances aren't like before Harper. These runs are dangerous. We lose people. Even doing what seems simple or routine, isn't. And we really need you here. This sanctuary of yours ….what you have here.….you can't possibly know what it's done for everyone….." Rick struggled to explain.

"That's a bunch of melodramatic nonsense Rick. If anything happens to me, then you do what you must. You return here and you carry on"

"But it's important you hear what I have to say as well. After hearing just a fraction of what you've been through, I know how lucky I was to have met you on the highway… and not one of the groups you've encountered. Which is why I desperately need to go with you. I need the experience you can give me. Or otherwise you're leaving me as helpless as Judith."

"I get that Harper, I promise I do. But we can ease you into that. We can train you here. Slowly. You don't have to jump straight into the deep end," Rick shook his head, but finding himself reluctantly compelled by her argument.

"Sink or swim, Rick. It's time," Harper turned on her heel and returned to the cabin, leaving Rick and Daryl to stare at her back – knowing they'd both just been steamrolled.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

 _The next morning_

"Daryl? I don't understand? Why now? We just got here?" Beth wailed.

Harper halted outside her bedroom door, listening as Beth's wailing escalated.

"Same as always Beth. You know that. We need food if we wanna survive here," Daryl's words were terse but were softened by his tone. There was a long pause before Beth replied.

"I'm sorry. I know, Daryl. I know. It's just ….. I feel like I just got you back. Promise me you'll be careful. Extra careful because I can't lose you. Not again," Beth's sweet voice went from soft to steely strong in a millisecond.

"I always am Beth."

Harper suddenly felt like an intruder in her own home. Guilty of eavesdropping, she tried to hurry back down the stairs before she was caught. But seconds later, Daryl was on her heels.

"We're leavin' in five. Make sure ya bring that first aid kit 'a yers," Daryl pulled her aside.

"I'm pretty sure I know what to bring," Harper couldn't hide her gigantic eye roll.

In less than an hour she found herself riding shotgun next to Daryl who was driving her Land Rover down the devasted Georgia highway's while she sipped hot coffee. Glenn and Maggie sat in the back, their fingers threaded together as they calmly watched the scenery – seemingly unfazed by the devastation. Rick, Michonne and Abraham followed behind in the late-model Suburban.

Since they didn't have to make any double-backs this time (thanks to all the mistakes she'd made her first trip) they made much better time. Just a little over two hours ….only this time, with Daryl driving, Harper was able to pay attention to the scenery. There was the devastation but also the miracle of new growth too. She became lost in the scenery and her thoughts until Daryl abruptly pulled over

"What are you doing? Why are you stopping here?" Harper frowned, immediately surveilling the area.

"Cuz Rick's flashin' his brights," Daryl snapped back.

"Why not use the walkies? It's safer. I told you they don't operate on a public frequency."

"I dunno. Habit?" Daryl didn't see what the big deal was. They'd used this method for a long time and it worked fine.

"Bluidy Bluidy Hell," Harper spat, knowing her short temper was more about fear than the walkies. She tried to calm down, taking slow deep breaths.

Daryl, Glenn and Maggie all ignored her outburst and exited the car leaving Harper to storm out last, slamming the door louder than necessary.

"Grab the bolt cutters," Rick barked at Abraham, after pacing the long fenced line of the compound, much of it now covered by foliage.

"Why? What the hell are we doing here?" Harper ran forward, her temples starting to pound. This was a bad sign. And she was getting a very bad feeling in her gut.

"Settle down Lady Di. We got this," Abraham brushed past her.

"We need to get into the compound Harper!" Rick snapped, even he was getting peeved at having his decisions questioned.

"For the love of Christ, Rick! That's a shite call. Have you never done this before? Why would you do this right here on the highway where anyone that passes by will see the fence has been cut? And a cut fence implies there is something inside worth taking. An overgrown, ratty fence tells passersby there's nothing here. Are you completely unfamiliar with the concept of 'stealth'? Or should I get out the ribbons and start blowing up the balloons? Maybe we can set off a flare? Make a proper show of it?" Harper fumed, finding it difficult to even breathe. She was beyond flabbergastered at how they operated. And they said they were "good at this"?

"Harp, it's not like anyone is watching?" Rick countered, but part of him was a bit embarrassed at not having thought through her valid points.

"And you know that how, Rick? What about those groups you told me about? Even if they don't come by while we're inside, what if this place is loaded and we need to come back?" Harper knew she was starting to persuade them when Daryl, Maggie and Glenn began to nod in agreement.

"Every option is improved if it looks like we were never here." Harper knew she was speaking really fast but couldn't stop herself.

"Fine! What do you think we should do?" Rick snapped.

"Well, we could maybe drive around the back to look for a less obvious way in?" Harper mimicked Rick's snotty tone, but the look on everyone's face told her she'd crossed the line.

Still Harper stood her ground and stared at Rick while the others were caught in between in the uncomfortable unkwardness. Finally Rick gave ground.

"Back up the trucks. We'll see if we can drive around back," Rick conceded, giving Harper a nod. It wasn't a nod of carte blanche – just a nod that said don't keep pushing me.

The drive around back was over rough terrain but the trucks handled it, leaving only a few deep divots along the way. As Harper predicted, there was another locked gate at the rear. The overgrowth and brush indicated this route had not been used in a long time. All the better.

And just like before, Abraham immediately jumped out with the bolt cutters at the ready. And once again, Harper jumped out to stop him.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me lady? What's wrong with openin' the gate this fuckin' time? Ain't nobody but the damn birds can see us here?" Abraham barked as he stormed toward her, his giant frame intimidating. Apparently Abraham had only two modes, loud and louder.

Daryl immediately positioned himself between Abraham and Harper.

"Abraham, nothing's wrong with opening the gate. I just don't see the point of using an M16, when a this will do?" Harper turned on her heel and sauntered over to the locked gate, able to read the lock from where she was standing.

"Fuck that shit. An M16 always works," Abraham muttered, following her with the bolt cutters.

Before Abraham could catch up, Harper ran ahead, slipping the burgundy velvet bundle from her back pocket and squatted down. She deftly used the slim rods until she heard the tell-tale click. It took her all of two seconds. But then again, she was rusty. Harper pushed the gate ajar.

"Or we can do it her way," Maggie smirked at Abraham and sashayed past, giving him a swat on his muscular ass for good measure. Rosita would have pissed if she didn't.

"Why didn't ya just tell Abraham you were gunna pick the lock," Daryl groused at her when they got back into the truck.

"I know. That was bitchy. I let Abraham get to me…..I should probably apologize," Harper felt ashamed but then glanced back at Maggie, who was still giggling.

"And you're not helping," Harper accused but it only made Maggie laugh harder.

Rick drove into the Sysco compound first and it wasn't long before they passed a cluster of walkers, most of them wearing the tattered remnants of faded navy canvas uniform. The instant Rick stopped, everyone in both trucks jumped out – efficiently ending all walkers. Everyone except Harper.

Harper sat in the truck, completely frozen, trying to recover from the shock of what she witnessed…and what she knew was still to happen. Still, it was difficult to watch these people she now called 'friend', kill so unemotionally…as if it were little more than an arcade game. She tried to tell herself she would soon do the same….that she'd have to. But the twist in her gut was making her nauseous. She'd always prided herself that violence was never part of the equation on her jobs…..relying on planning and smarts and her wits rather than confrontation. Nick and Norah said killing was for those who were too stupid to plan.

Her remained taut with anticipation while everyone else moved swiftly….relaxed and apparently unfazed; like a harmonious machine Like it was just another day at the office. Which it was.

"If we go in through the loading dock it will be faster and we're less likely to encounter ….the ehm, walkers," Harper found her voice, trying use their terminology.

"Onto the loading dock then," Rick shrugged. Harper was relieved that Rick no longer seemed to simply discount her ideas out of turn.

"Ya ready? Daryl glanced over at her, concerned by her faint pallor.

"You know I'm not," Harper snapped, hating feeling this way – scared and incompetent. She was used to being in charge, so being treated like a child was annoying, and embarrassing. She'd injured people in the line. Sometimes, very badly…when she'd had no choice. And, if she was totally honest, there were a few times she'd wished she'd killed one of them….maybe two. But she'd never actually gone through with it.

"Ya need ta just do it, and get it over with. Now's as good time as any," Daryl muttered, like it was nothing more than learning to swat a fly.

"You make it sound like a Nike commercial." She bit her lip. But Daryl just stared and waited.

"I know….I know, you're right," Harper took a slug of water, squeezing the bottle as tight as she dared so her hands wouldn't shake. But her stomach was a mess of knots.

Daryl pulled the truck up to the loading dock, and Glenn and Maggie jumped out to join Rick and the others to secure the dock.

"Show time. Just take yer knife and shove it in the brain. Remember, s'gotta be the brain," Daryl spoke so matter of fact, it actually did help calm her.

Harper took a step back and watched everyone go to work. When she turned to join them she saw a walker stumbling towards her, moaning and growling, jaws eager to bite into her. Daryl urged her on, but she stepped back….hesitating.

"Fer fucks sake Lady. Yer the one that demanded ta be here. If ya cain't do this, jus' get yer ass back in the damn …." Daryl didn't finish before Harper ran towards the walker, as light as a ballet dancer, and shoved her knife firmly into its skull. She gasped, breathing hard as it hit her with full force what she'd just done. But she forced herself to focus.

"I don't wanna do this Daryl. I can't imagine anyone does," Harper's voice was dull as she pulled the blade out and wiped off the black ooze with the ratty cloth Daryl gently handed her.

"But make no mistake, I'm going to do whatever it takes." She vowed, her chin quivering as she tried to process everything. The odd brittleness of the skull. The reddish-black ooze, so different than real blood. The putrid stench. The odd texture of what once was flesh. The name tag embroidered with the name Danny on it. Danny. She'd just killed a lad named Danny. When she looked down, she saw a dull gold wedding band on the dull grey finger. She made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer before turning around to face what was before her, reminding herself that she'd asked….no demanded….to come along.

Daryl gave her a nod of approval and dragged 'Danny' into the corner without even so much as a backyard glance….as if he were nothing. As if his life meant nothing. Harper forced herself not to wince, struggling to get her 'shite' together.

"Daryl. Hold up," Harper suddenly turned back around and grabbed Danny's corpse.

"Whatchya doin'?" Daryl frowned, watching her pull the corpse back. He reluctantly rushed back to help.

"These might come in handy," Harper reached under the dead man's shirt for the pack that hooked up to the ear piece, which now clung to his flesh. She ripped it off, ignoring the bits of rotted flesh stuck to it, confident the electronics would still work with a bit of a scrub and new batteries.

"Ya think there'll be others?" Daryl quickly figured out where she was going with this.

"I'd bet on it," Harper efficiently wound the cord around the comm pack, familiar with the technology. When she finished, she looked up to find Abraham waving wildly from one of the semi-trailers.

"It's still got a half-full tank," Abraham yelled. "Just ain't got no keys."

"Did you try under the mat? Or the visor?" Maggie yelled, but Abraham just shook his head.

"Ok everyone, you know the drill. Grab what we need. Do it fast and do it safe. We'll prioritize on the dock after we see what we've got to work with," Rick spoke from the top of the dock. Everyone was practically chomping at the bit to get in there and see what was what.

"You ready for a shopping spree?" Maggie grabbed Harper's arm.

"Nothing I love better," Harper tried to sound as lighthearted as everyone else seemed to be. Fake it til you make, she told herself. Maggie held her back and Abraham and Michonne entered first. Daryl hurried to catch up with Harper, but Rick pulled him aside.

"I want you to keep an eye on Harper ok? " Rick whispered.

"Of course," Daryl would have done it regardless of whether Rick said anything. He told himself it was because they owed her. It absolutely had nothing to do with the way his blood warmed whenever he was around her.

"Rick…Holy Shit! Y'ain't gonna believe it. This place is still full," Abraham yelled and everyone whooped it up, not knowing exactly what to do first.

Skylights in the warehouse allowed natural light in revealing shelves upon shelves at least twenty feet tall. So tall, the upper shelves could only be reached with one of the many forklifts that were scattered about. The directional paint with numbers on the floor spoke to an organized and well-run facility at one time. Now, it was musty and reeked with the tell-tale stench of decomposition. The only question left was whether the dead had remained dead. Doubtful.

"Come on everyone. Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," even Rick couldn't keep the hopeful grin off his face as he marched down the main aisle.

"Harper…..come with me. We should see if there's any meat left?" Maggie urged her along, excited by all the stocked shelves

"Maybe we should hold back for a bit and make a plan? This place is gigantic. I'd hate to walk into a surprise?" Harper's caution had always been her best asset.

"That would be great….but short of a drone, I don't know what our….." Maggie stopped and spun around.

"Harper? What the hell are you doing?" Maggie yelled when she saw the Harper had already climbed halfway up the steel shelving. Seconds later, Harper was standing top, some twenty plus feet above.

"How the hell'd she do that?" Daryl was instantly beside Maggie.

"Just give me a few seconds to take a look around," Harper leapt across shelving, grabbing I-beams to swing across the larger expanses.

"I thought I said to keep an eye on her?" Rick ran over to see what all the commotion was about.

"She was up there too fast. Like something out of Cirque de Soleil," Maggie stepped in, knowing Daryl wouldn't defend himself.

"Harper…..come down. We don't have time for this," Rick yelled, no longer able to see her. Minutes later, Harper reappeared, elegantly climbing down the shelves with as much grace as her ascent.

"There are maybe ten walkers huddled together on the last aisle….. they seem lethargic and…crusty. There is one at the end of aisle five and two midway aisle seven," Harper knew she was showing off, but if it kept them safer, then it was worth it.

"That's good to know Harper…..but we can't work like prima donnas on these trips. You pull something like that again, and it's the last time you come on a run with us. Am I clear?" Rick was seething.

"Fine," Harper ground out, refusing to apologize. Not when she knew she was right.

Rick, turned on his heel and marched down the aisle, along with Eugene, Glenn, Abraham and Michonne to handle the cluster. He left it to Daryl to handle the others.

"Rick was being a dick. You did the smart thing. I think he's having trouble ….adjusting to having someone as smart as he is around," Maggie handed her can after can of salmon, chicken and tuna.

"Stop it. This isn't about smarts. This is about doing what each of us are good at. Isn't that why you and Glenn are usually the in-and-out team?" Harper began stacking cans of chicken and stew neatly on the pallet

"Yo, Spider Woman. I need ya fer sumthin'," Daryl sauntered over after clearing the rest of the aisles, nary a drop of walker blood on him.

"I'll help load the rest of this," Glenn joined in, smiling up at Maggie as they carried on.

"So? What can I do for you, Mister Dixon?" she teased.

"See that up there?" Daryl turned and pointed to the wall of windows that looked out over the warehouse.

"Probably admin and offices?" Harper shrugged.

"And where they'd keep anything halfway decent," Daryl reminded.

"You think you can maybe do you climby thing and get us in there?"

"Uhm….my 'climby thing'?" Harper smirked. "It looks like they blew the stairs on purpose?"

"Ya think?" Daryl raised a brow, staring at the pile of corpses that lay under the pile of debris that had at one time been the stairwell.

"Don't matter. If ya cain't do it, we got more'n enough ta keep us busy."

Harper knew what he was doing, but that didn't mean it wasn't working. She slowly walked closer, kicking away debris as her fingertips began tracing the grooves of the cement blocks.

"I'll have to jump to the ledge, and smash it in. The grooves aren't deep enough to climb up, not without a harness, pitons, caribiners, that sort of thing. Best I can do is a smash and grab. You up for that?"

"Won't be my first."

"Ok. But we better tell Rick. I promised him I wouldn't go off on my own again." Harper reminded him and this time it was Daryl that rolled his eyes.

"Get what ya need. I'll go tell Rick," Daryl ran off, leaving Harper alone to plan what she needed to do. A few minutes later, Rick returned with Daryl.

"You're going to do what?"

"I'm going to jump up to that ledge. Shoot the window out and climb up over the ledge."

"Harper…..there's nothing up there we need bad enough to risk this. You don't have to do this." Rick stopped her.

"Rick, we have no idea what's up there. So how do we know?," she reminded him. "Shall we do this?"

"Rick, hoist me up. Daryl, you may want to hold the wall," Harper slipped off her shoes, all of a sudden conscious just how out of practice she was. Rick threaded his fingers together, and prepared to lift Harper up onto Daryl's shoulders, Sig Sauer tucked in the back of her belt.

"What's goin' on here?" Abraham and Michonne wandered over, curious when Daryl came to get Rick. And given they already had more supplies than they can take back in the two trucks, there seemed little point in continuing.

"Gotta get Harper up there," Daryl eyed the row of windows that looked down upon the warehouse.

"Sorry Daryl. I got at least six inches on ya. Plus I'm taller'n ya too," Abraham cracked himself up at his joke, but Daryl just glared.

"Aw….ya know I'm jus' kiddin' with ya. Come on. Now lift yer Brit up on my shoulders, Daryl." Abraham leaned against the wall, bracing himself against the wall, having done this in the military with soldiers much heavier than Harper.

Rick threaded his fingers together to make a scoop. Harper placed her foot into Rick's hands while Daryl's hands were at his waist easily hoisting her up onto Abraham's wide shoulders.

"You ok?" she peered down at Abraham, her bare feet gripping his strong shoulders.

"I'm fine. You weigh like five pounds," Abraham grunted, annoyed by the question.

"On three. One…..Two….." Harper used all the strength in her thighs and core, and jumped. It was quite spectactular, but even so she barely made it, her fingers just barely able to grip the window ledge. Thankfully it had a lip and she was able to work it side to side until she had a firm grip. But holding on with two arms was one thing. Now she had to reach down for the Sig.

Everyone stayed put, standing by to catch her just in case she slipped. They all watched as she reached down to grab the Sig from the back of her jeans.

"Shite…the damn safety," she groaned, trying to finagle it with one finger. It took a while and but she finally was able to click the safety. Turning her head she pulled the trigger. She ducked her head as glass shattered all around her.

Shit. Glass. Sharp glass. This was going to hurt like a bitch to climb in. Just as she prepared to reach up, she felt the flutter of a cloth by her ear. One of Daryl's rags landed cockeyed on her head.

"I owe you Daryl," she yelled her thanks, wadding up the cloth before she reached in to the smashed window, using it like a messed up hot pad to swish away the shattered glass before she lifted her leg up, at an impossible angle. But she wasn't able to wipe all the glass away. She gasped at the sudden sharp pain on her inner thigh.

She forced herself to push the pain away. She used Daryl's rag and a wad of Kleenex to staunch the bleeding before she began casing the room. Dusty computers, ancient in-boxes full of invoices, coffee cups half-full of coffee (now layered with scum and flies). But Harper knew anything worth finding, wouldn't be out in the open. She checked the back of the desk, drawers, behind the tacky poster paintings. But then she found something even more interesting in the locker.

"Anyone want to come help me," Harper leaned her head out of the window then slung the emergency ladder she'd just found over the ledge, taking care to secure the grips. It took Daryl less than a second to recover from his surprise at the ladder, before he climbed up to help her to case the Admin office. Rick encouraged the others to begin loading the cans of meat and essentials onto the trucks. Everything else would have to stay. Rick realized Harper had been right, and they would need to come back. And they sure didn't want someone else to set up shop here between now and then.

"Yer good at this," Daryl complimented her as they both rifled through the offices. Harper did her best to hide her injury, afraid he'd insist she stop and they didn't have time for that.

"You're not so bad yourself," Harper turned and met his eyes and it was as if the world suddenly froze. And for a split second, it was perfect….to just be with him… to not be afraid….to share the same breath. But then as quickly as the moment happened it passed and they awkwardly returned to throwing open drawers, looking under rugs (Harpers suggestion), anything where someone might hide something worth hiding.

"H? Ya think ya can git inta this?" Daryl called her from one of the executive offices, standing there holding a rather large painting and revealing a wall safe.

"Damn…..now that's an oldie but a goodie." She eyed the old make and model, trying not to let him see her limp.

"If you wouldn't mind getting the stethoscope from the first aid kit….I think can do it. It just better not be a bunch of cash...Shite, I never thought I'd ever be saying that," she laughed, ignoring the pain which was now a dull ache. Daryl, returned with her kit faster than was humanly possible.

"You can really open it up with that? My bruthu woulda really liked ya," Daryl stood by and watched while she listened to the ancient tumblers as they knocked around.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she mouthed and a few second later she clicked open the safe, both of them staring at the contents.

"Well this shit's probl'y stale," Daryl tossed the giant baggies of weed on the desk.

"Not your thing?" Harper smirked.

"Nope. You?" He picked the baggies up again.

"Not since I was fifteen. But it does have it's place. Honestly I'm starting to think Rick should maybe consider it," Harper snapped, surprised to see Daryl chuckle.

"Why they didn't open the safe? Wouldn't the manager give them the combo?" Harper shook her head as she pulled out two 9-mm handguns and three boxes of ammo. She then handed him four giant ziplock baggies of pills.

"Christ, was this a food distribution warehouse or a drug cartel?"

"Who says it wasn't both? It'd be a great cover? If it was, I'd bet there's more drugs …..and more guns around here," Daryl pointed out.

"Well, let's keep them…...we may need to horse trade at some point," Harper commented as she handed him the illegal stash. Most were expired, but that didn't mean they didn't work.

"What else is in there?" Daryl asked as she grabbed the last stack of files and papers. At the very bottom was a giant ring of keys. Harper grinned. Daryl grinned back.

"Hey Abraham? Did that semi have a number on it?" Harper yelled down from the window, dangling the giant key ring.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

"They're back! Hey everyone, they're back." Beth squealed, bouncing up from her chair on the porch. She'd been waiting anxiously all day, and was the first to hobble down the stairs when the gates opened. Carol, Carl, Eugene, Rosita, and Sasha all came rushing out to open the gate and welcome the trucks in.

"Wahoooo!" Abraham was hanging halfway out of the semi as he drove, whooping it up with excitement. He'd barely even stopped the truck before he jumped out and grabbed Rosita, kissing her and twirling her around wildly. Soon everyone was joining in the revelry.

"A semi-truck? You brought back a semi-truck?" Carol stood back, nibbling on her knuckles, not quite sure what to make of it all. As if afraid to get be too optimistic.

"Not just any semi-truck. A semi-truck full of this!" Glenn made a ceremony of it as he opened up the metal doors, revealing 30-ft of truck, packed solid with food , supplies and equipment. They'd even nabbed the white board and some colored pens for Judith and Carl, thinking to get schooling started again..

"Let's store everything in the garage for now. We can sort it later," Harper bit her lip as she fielded questions being peppered at her a mile a minute. She was light headed and her vision going in and out, but she did her best to hide her pain as she directed the others toting boxes, bins and heavy bags. She wiped the beads of sweat off her brow, …..feeling blood dripping down her thigh.

"Was anyone hurt?" Carol yelled as she hurried past Beth, Tyreese right on her heels.

"It was a clean run. No injuries," Rick seemed almost surprised by this. Harper chose not to let him know otherwise.

"Hey Carl? I found something I think you might like!" Michonne handed the boy a one gallon tin of chocolate pudding sending them both into fits of laughter.

"My head is spinning. I don't even know what to cook first? I'm thinking spaghetti bolognas" Carol gleefully eyed all the newly acquired goods, instantly setting up in the garage to organize and decide what should go where.

"I say, chef's choice," Harper carried another box and set it down, knowing she needed to take care of her leg before it gave her away.

"Carol….I need to go inside a minute," Harper made her excuses, using every ounce of strength to not limp. She made her way to the closet, her fingers shaky on the keypad.

"Yer hurt…are ya bit? Goddamn'it. Tell me yer not bit? God fuckin' damn'it, why didn't ya say sumthin? Ya had that kit with us?" Daryl ranted behind her, his face white as a ghost.

"What? No, I didn't get bit. It's just a cut from window glass," Harper tried to hide the wince, actually somewhat flattered he cared.

"What the hell? There's no such thing as just a cut. Don't you know that? Jesus, are ya jus' stupid? An' reckless. That's i!. Y'ain't goin' out on runs EVER again. Ya cain't fuckin' be trusted," Daryl continued to rant but Harper ignored him, forgetting she'd not shown Daryl this hidden entrance yet. The hidden door silently slid open to reveal the hidden staircase to the basement.

"Goddamnit! How many of these secret entrances do you have? It's like a goddamn maze in here," Daryl's eyes widened.

"That was supposed to be the point," Harper snapped but the dizziness started to overtake her. She collapsed against the wall, her legs giving way. Daryl rushed forward and picked her up, carrying her down the stairs, becoming angrier and angrier with every step.

"That was stupid and reckless. Tell me what you need?" Daryl set her down on the chair and began to pace.

"There's a kit on the shelf there. Also some 2.0 vicryl….and a needle. The curved needle. I need the Lidocaine on the top right shelf." She barked out commands, her pain making her snap. Daryl nodded, but then again the place was organized by someone with clear OCD issues and the unnatural love of a labelmaster.

Daryl gathered it all up and set it on the small table, unable to hide the concern on his face.

"There are medications on the shelf across from the Lidocaine. Grab the bottle that says Alprazolam. It's alphabetical," she instructed, doing her best to try and take controlled breaths.

"Here," He tapped one tablet out for her and passed her a bottle of water.

"Not for me. Tt's for you. Because you won't stop pacing, you're being pissy and mean, and you're driving me bluidy crazy. Besides, I need you to help me, and you can't do that if your hands are shaking because you're so pissed."

Daryl ignored her, chalking it up to pain…that and he was being mean, and pissy. But when she said she needed him, and his hands were shaking, he reluctanctly swallowed a half of one of them pills.

"Would you turn around. I need to take my jeans off?"

"Oh fur the luv a Christ," Daryl spat…apparently still 'pissy'. Before she could protest, he pulled out his knife and cut her jeans off just below her ass, making them the shortest of shorts. Obscene was her word.

"Jeezus….why didn't ya say anything?" Daryl yelled again when he saw the angry red slice on her inner thigh, and it was now bleeding worse since he cut away the dried jeans that had at least coagulated.

"Oh shit…..I'm …..," she felt herself starting to fade again and knew she was losing consciousness.

"What do I get? Is there somethin' ya need? Ya ain't diabetic er nuthin' are ya?" Daryl pleaded with her to help him.

Daryl jumped to the shelves, searching for something to help, because he desperately needed her to return to at least semi-consciousness to talk him through this

"No…..just a little woozy. I think I might need you to get this started if you don't mind," she whispered, her skin cold and clammy.

"I need ya awake ta talk me through it," he coaxed, holding pressure on her wound but reached up to wipe the cold sweat from her face. He took the needle not in the least phased by the feel of puncturing her flesh with needle. But the fact his face was deep in her inner thigh? That was another matter entirely. Slowly, she found things coming back into focus….Daryl's eyes….his throaty voice...his soft touch.

Daryl made his first his stitch…..Harper continued her drug induced babbling.

"Fine, but you'd better not make a scar. Just in case you risk my career with Sports Illustrated Swim Suit….Ahhhhh shite, it's not numb," she gasped when the instant the pain registered.

"Lidocaine….Lidocaine…..Lidocaine…..please give me need Lidocaine NOW?" she panted, begging him, tears leaking from her eyes. He instantly obeyed, returning with both Lidocaine and two painkillers.

"Swallow." He ordered, not giving her the option of refusing.

"Now how do I do this?" he asked, once her color returned, wiping away the cold beads of sweat with a damp cloth.

"Push the needle into the cut about a half inch and inject it right into the cut," she bit her lip and leaned her head against the cold metal of the shelf. Daryl reached up and wiped her face again.

Daryl looked into her eyes, hating that she was in so much pain…..and that he couldn't make it stop. Worse that she'd hid it from him.

"Ya ready fer me ta keep goin'?" his gloved fingers were gentle over the angry gash. But it was the kindness in his blue eyes that broke through the pain and began to mesmerize her. Or was it the low husky voice?

"Yes…go ahead….Finish it," she struggled to swallow but couldn't look away. Daryl took a deep breath and returned to stitching, silently working until he was finished.

"Ya still shoulda said sumthin'," Daryl finally grunted as he wrapped her thigh with gauze.

"I know. I guess maybe I'm still not used to working with Team Rick Didn't it took you more than a day or two to join Team Rick, am I right?" she called him out.

"Yea…..it did. But that's jus' cuz I'ma dumb ass. You ain't."

"You know, you're really cute when I'm high….and when I'm not high," she grinned, her words starting to slur.

"Come on….I better git you upstairs so ya can sleep this off," he swooped her up in his arms, making her head go woozy. She tucked her face into his neck.

"You smell really nice…..like soap….and sweat….and you," she babbled, whispering the last bit in his ear.

"Hush up! Yer high as a goddamn kite." Daryl rolled his eyes, his mouth full of her hair, refusing to admit how that liked it….at least a little bit. Still, he ignored those thoughts and carried her up the two flights of stairs as if she weighed nothing.

"I like it when I can see your face," her fingers lazily traced his jaw.

"That's nice. Now close yer eyes and git sum sleep," Daryl pulled away, doing his best to ignore her. Or more accurately to ignore what she was doing to him.

"How's yer leg?" he got her situated in bed.

"S'fine. …." she slurred. Her eyes fluttered shut and she fell asleep.

Daryl covered her with that fancy puffy blanket of hers and returned downstairs to help the others finish unloading. But he couldn't seem to stop thinking about the softness of her flesh. Or the miniscule hummingbird tattoo just on her upper thigh.

 **THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD**

 _The next day_

"Anyone seen Harper?" Daryl wandered around the yard. He'd already checked the cabin, the basement, the comm, the RV's….so unless she had some more hidey-holes he didn't know about …..?

"I thought she was with Beth?" Carol barely looked up from the stew. It had been so long since she'd even seen a walker, she barely even worked up any concern. Thankfully Carol didn't press Daryl for why he was looking for which was good, since he didn't have a great answer. Harper didn't want Rick to know she'd been cut. And Daryl sure as hell was NOT looking for her because of what she'd said after she got all loopy from the pain pills.

He found Beth pushing Judith in the swing by what was now looking a lot like an actual playground. They had a sandbox and seesaw.

Beth squinted up at Daryl, confused, and a little annoyed by his obvious concern for their hostess, "I'm pretty sure she was with Michonne earlier."

Daryl huffed, unsure if he was purposely being sent in circles or if he should really be worried about her. Which only me him more pissed off with every step.

"Damn, D. You look like you're about to murder someone?" Michonne looked up from where she was working on setting more trip wires on the perimeter.

"Tryin' ta find Harp….you seen her?"

"Yeah? But not since yesterday. When was the last time you saw her?"" Michonne looked up, the first one who actually seemed concerned.

"Yesterday, after I…ehm….after we came back from the run," Daryl decided not to let on about stitching up Harper's leg. He wasn't sure why.

"You know it was kinda weird for her to not join us for dinner….but I guess I get it. It was her first run and all. Her first walker kill. That had to be tough. After living up here, protected and isolated the whole time. I think she did damn well," Michonne finished up what she was doing..

"I s'ppose," Daryl agreed, nibbling on his cuticle as he looked around the cabin. She'd been right, it wasn't much. But it was safe and secure, and she'd shared it with them.

"So, you're worried about her? I think it's cute," Michonne teased, knowing full well it would make him get all embarrassed.

"Jus' lookin' fer her s'all," Daryl bristled the way Michonne knew he would.

"Well then let's go find her. You know I was just messin' with you. You don't need to get all weird about it," Michonne swung her arm around Daryl's shoulders and they went in search.

….

They found Harper in a much less dramatic and boring place than they expected. They found her a half hour later in the garage sorting through the boxes and toting things to the basement.

"Christ, there you are. We've been looking everywhere for you," Daryl was exasperated by the time they found her.

"What's got your knickers in a bunch?" She looked up at him quizzically, confused by his anger.

"You mean other than the fact I've wasted the last hour lookin' fer yer ass?" Daryl spat, again pacing the garage.

"Well, since my arse has been right here for a few hours, thank god we have all this food because I'm having serious doubts as to your hunting skills," Harper taunted, herself feeling a bit pissy and out of sorts. And tired and in pain.

"Uhm, I've got some things to do. I think I'll let you two work this out," Michonne slowly backed away.

"Ya need ta sit down. When was the last time ya rested?" Daryl didn't even wait for her to answer, he just lifted her up, and set her on the nearest chair.

"Yer hurtin'," it wasn't a question. "Are the pills downstairs or ya got 'em nearby?"

"Downstairs," Harper mumbled, still in shock at having just been manhandled.

"I'll be right back. Stay put," Daryl ordered. And he was. Along with a glass of iced tea which he snagged from kitchen counter.

"Here. Keep these with you," He tossed her the bottle.

"Yes Doctor Dixon," she tossed one back, then ignored him and went back to what she'd been doing. She knew it was rude. But she wasn't able to deal with any of this any more.

"What the fuck is yer deal?" Daryl snatched the box out of her hands, refusing to be ignored.

"What are you talking about? I'm just trying to finish getting all this organized?" Harper turned away with another box.

"Bullshit"

"I told you. And shouldn't you be out there doing something?"

"I think everything can wait long enough to find out what crawled up yer arse in the middle of the night," Daryl taunted.

"Daryl, I'm fine. Just let it be," Harper turned and grabbed another box full of green beans.

"Ya ain't fine. Yer actin' meaner n'Merle needin' a fix. Side's I ain't seen ya since I stitched yer leg up yesterday and I….. ," Daryl paced…searching for what to say next. Did she remember what she'd said to him? If she did, what did it matter? She was only messing around anyway? Right?

"And it's a fine job you did," she lapsed into her father's brogue, hoping to compliment her way out this.

"You're a natural or you've had experience. I thank you….. and my thigh thanks you. It's healing well," she again tried to shoo him out of the garage. But he wouldn't budge.

"Daryl….I'm sorry. I know I'm being a shite. I just need to deal with yesterday in my own way for a bit ok?" Harper finally turned on him, …pissed at bring forced to explain herself.

"Ya got 'til tonight. An put everythin' ya want in the basement in that corner. I'll take it down later. I was jus' down there so I'll see if ya lie ta me," he warned, but the concern in his eyes took all the sting out of her initial reaction.

And just as fast as he'd stormed into the garage, she watched him leave. Which is what she'd begged him to do. So why did she feel so much worse?

 **THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD**

 _Later than night_

Daryl found Harper in her usual spot, long past midnight when everyone else had gone to sleep. He thought about turning back, but like some sort of magnetic pull- he was pulled to her.

"Ya should be in bed," he tried to sound stern, but to Harper his voice just felt like warm whiskey.

"Sure. Like I'm the type of person that does what I should," Harper snarked, immediately feeling guilty. She felt guilty a lot lately.

"Ya handled yerself better'n I 'spected yesterday." Daryl thought it was a compliment…..but the look on her face told him otherwise.

"Daryl….I owe you an apology. I know I was a piece a shite to you earlier today and I'm sorry. And I'm getting pissed now and likely to be a bluidy bitch again. And then I'll just have to apologize in the morning…. a bluidy never ending cycle if you know what I mean. So…..maybe we just skip to the end? Fast forward to where I just apologize for everything and we forget all the in between?" Harper drank deeply….and recklessly …..forgetting all the meds she'd taken earlier. She'd already drank half the bottle, but it wasn't nearly enough. The only saving grace was she'd not taken any pills since the one Daryl gave her in the afternoon.

"I ain't goin' nowhere. An' about yer bein' a bitch….. do ya really think I ain't drank with a bitch before. Hell, honestly? It'd be kinda weird not drinkin' with a bitch," Daryl grabbed her bottle and gulped, unfazed by her surly demeanor. Harper sideways glanced at him and found him completely relaxed.

"I don't know what my problem is. I think maybe I thought going out there with you would be like when I first went to pick pockets proper like. Or the first time I cracked a safe on a job. I figured it would be a challenge…..and difficult. But I could handle it. And I'd learn and be the better for it. But shoving a knife into someone's head? How am I the better for that? I know they aren't people anymore. I do. I'm not stupid. But I can't get it out of my head that Danny was a human being. That he had a wife. Maybe he was a good Da and husband ….or maybe he was a bluidy arse of a Da and husband? He might have left the toilet seat up and cheated on his wife with the babysitter. Or maybe he had daughters that giggled when he tossed them in the air. No matter, I was the one that shoved a knife into his head. My only grace that I tell myself is that he would have wanted me to….and he, if he was any decent Irish lad named Danny, would have wanted me to drink to his life….and to mourn his death. So, Slainte, Danny," Harper grabbed the bottle back and drank. And drank.

"To Danny," Daryl grabbed the bottle back and raised in salute.

"I'm scared that maybe you all were right. That maybe I'm not cut out for this world. And please don't dare insult me by lying to me. I know you all thought it. I saw it all in your faces. You all think I'm this freak of ….I don't know….planning, technology? But none you think I've got what it takes. And before yesterday it pissed me off. Now I've thinking you're right. Do you think I don't hear you whisper? Terminus? The horror at the prison? Carl's Mum? I'm not stupid."

Daryl couldn't answer. Every word she'd said was true. Which was why he couldn't even turn and face her. Likely a good thing, because she had tears streaming down her face.

"I swore to G, I told you about G and the others right? Anyway I swore I'd find my way back to them. Find a way to get back to the Isle. But if this is what it takes to make it in this world? I know it's hubris but I thought I was tough. Tougher than most, you know? I thought I was smarter too? That I could handle anything. But I never envisioned anything like this. And don't think it's not lost on me that today was an easy day as far as the apocalypse goes. That this is a walk in the park to what you've all seen and done," Harper lamented, taking yet another drink. But the alcohol barely fazed her after the plls she'd swallowed. Reckless….Yes. But what did she have to lose?.

"So tonight I'm planning on getting totally and completely properly Irish pissed…hopefully pass out here on the porch. And then I'm seriously considering never leaving this cabin again," Harper waved her hand, indicating the extra bottles of wine she'd brought as back up, then leaned back and stared up at the moon, praying the tears wouldn't come.

"An' here I thought ya was gettin' trashed cuz a yer leg. But yer jus' havin' a goddamn pity party. Ya wanna get trashed…..Fine. I don't give a shit. I'll even join ya. But, y'ain't gunna pussy out over yer first walker kill and cut on yer leg. Ya say yer family needs ya. After seein' ya climb like that, we sure as shit need ya too. So, go on an' get "pissed" er whatever the hell ya call it. Have yer pity party an' git wasted. But tomorrow morning ya better git the fuck over it. Cuz everyone else will have." Daryl spat, refusing to let her devolve.

"Wow? I'm not the only one that's being a bitch," Harper turned her head and reluctantly smiled. His words reminded her of someone else who'd refused to let her wallow.

"For the past two years I've had this dream in my head….I play it over and over like a video. One day I'd get the courage to drive down this mountain and to my surprise I find an airport. There'd be abandoned planes scattered everywhere not unlike what I saw on the highway, and I find a plane big enough to fly across the Atlantic. I'd manage to clear a runway and takeoff, fly the whole way using autopilot, and land on our Isle. Everyone would be there to greet me. Completely safe from the ravages of this disease. But now, after being out there, whenever I close my eyes I see G and Paddy, Giada, Sean , Claire… everyone, waiting for me. Except now…..they're all walkers!" Harper's eyes welled with tears, her long hair sticking unattractively to her face.

"Well, booo fuckin' hooo. That's a real tear jerker. 'Cept I ain't got no idea if yer family's still alive er not. But I do know that yer still alive. And if they're on an island ….AND…. half as smart as ya….then they got a better chance'n most'a us had. But that don't mean shit if yer gunna pussy out," Daryl refused to cut her any slack.

"Beth told me you lost people too? Merle? Harper turned to look into his eyes. He'd mentioned him briefly before so she felt it was fair game. But between her intense gaze and the subject, his first instinct was to pull away. But he didn't. He felt frozen.

"Yeah…..he could be a real dick too," was all Daryl could think to say.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring him up…..nevermind," Harper turned away.

"Naw….my turn ta be a dick. Ta Merle. What's that thing ya say? Sluncha?" Daryl raised the bottle to the moon and drank to his brother, remembering the last thing his brother did was out of love for him.

"To Merle. Slainte!" Harper held up the bottle and drank.

"Ya really think ya could fly a plane across the ocean? Er was that just a bunch a bullshit?" Daryl turned, starting to feel the warm buzz flow through his veins.

"In my head, it was easy. The runway is always clear, but that would be a wicked problem now….and in my dreams there was plenty of jet fuel left. My fear now, would be I'd want enough fuel to return in case I was wrong. I've flown smaller planes, and while I was here alone I played a bunch of those simulations so I convinced myself I can take off safely. Other than a safe landing, and having zero idea what I'll find when I get there, I figured it's a pretty rock solid plan," she slurred, laughing at her own absurdity.

"It's fuckin' crazy, is what it is," Daryl laughed.

"What about any of this isn't crazy?" she threw back at him, laughing herself.

"Daryl? Do you really think we can build something here? That we should?" Harper turned, her eyes sparkling with tears.

"Maybe? Fer a while at least. Ya should try not ta think about it too much," was all Daryl could suggest.

"Is that what you do?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, too tipsy to care.

"Yeah. It's what I'm gunna do."

"How? How do you not hope? How do you not start to want things?"

"I stopped wanting things a long time ago. When I learned I could never have 'em," Daryl's voice was cold.

"So you don't think there's anywhere out there? Somewhere they've got their shite together?" Harper lifted her head.

Daryl couldn't look at her….he just shook his head.

"Well then. I guess I won't get too attached to my shite hole shine cabin then," Harper managed, a resigned smirk on her face as she took another drink. The unsaid words were that 'I also won't get too attached to anyone else.' And that broke her heart. She lifted the bottle and finished it.

She never even remembered Daryl carrying her upstairs after she passed out.


	5. Chapter 5- Security

**Recovery – Chapter 5: We Always Run**

 **Thank you to all who have reviewed. I know this is slow. I have no idea why. I've never understood when I've A/N's who've said that the story dictates. I want to scream...you are the author...change it. So this is really odd for me. So thanks for being so patient. Love ya'll.**

 **THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD**

 _A month later_

"Good morning Tyreese. Thought you might like a refill," Harper wandered into the comm room. She smiled brightly, dark honey brown hair swinging over her shoulders, as she handed Tyreese a mug of fresh coffee…..made just the way he liked it - two pumps of vanilla and a healthy dollop of boxed coconut milk. And three sugars.

"Thanks, H." Tyreese didn't even look up as he continued monitoring the wall of video and audio. This morning it was Noah and Sasha sitting watch in the tower that Rick still insisted be manned 24/7. Glenn and Maggie were walking the interior perimeter as well. At least were in constant communication now they had the wireless mics from Sysco.…and Tyreese included music when he wasn't too busy.

"You didn't give him any more sugar in his coffe did you, H?" Sasha's annoyed and concerned voice came over loud and clear through the speakers.

"Of course….not?" Harper lied…very badly.

"Ty….you know we got diabetes in our family…." Sasha tried to sound stern, but the love in her voice couldn't be disguised.

"Sasha, can't ya just leave me be and let me enjoy my damn coffee," Tyreese smirked, making a show of his loud slurping.

"That's not coffee Ty. It's a damn milkshake. You know it's only cuz I luv ya, bro," Sasha finally relented.

"Same, Sis." Tyreese's warm throaty voice floated like hot chocolate over the wireless.

"So, do I take it that it's all quiet on the western front?" Harper slumped down in the leather seat next to Tyreese, used to someone else manning her comm. It took a while, but now, at least it didn't startle her to walk in and see someone at her desk.

"Yep, no walkers, but Noah and Sash saw a few deer. Best guess is they're still between perimeter two and three so they musta hopped the fence. Daryl's gonna be stoked when he finds out. You wanna be the one to tell him?" Ty smirked, knowing that meant they might eat really well tonight.

"I will if I see him," Harper swiped half of Tyreese's muffin then escaped before he could protest – knowing full well he couldn't yell too loudly or Sasha would hear.

Lately, things between her and Daryl could best be described as …..Detente. No fighting. No sulking. If anything it was too polite. The only one who seemed happy about the situation was Beth. The others just tiptoed around it.

Harper snuck out the back door awkwardly propping it open with her foot so she could slip through, muffin propped precariously on the paper plate.

"Daryl?" she gasped, surprised to find him sitting in her usual spot on the steps. Since their drunken talk a month ago, he was usually long gone by the time she woke up so she was more than a little shocked.

"S'up H," Daryl acknowledged. He'd been the first to start calling her H, and it quickly caught on with the others. Resistance, she'd learned, was futile.

"Scoot, D. You're in my spot," she ordered, forcing a smile on her face as she bantered back. Truth was, sharing the back porch with Daryl had become the best part of her day. Or it had been. She missed it, instead she would sit out here alone with Bub.

Daryl shrugged and slid over, curiously observing her in that hunter's way of his. He'd been doing his best to fight his body's reaction to her, hoping some distance would help. It hadn't. And it wasn't just because she was knock-dead gorgeous, with her deep silver eyes and long chestnut hair that swung past her shoulders in waves. He felt comfortable with her. He could talk to her. And for the past month, he couldn't thinking about her

"I was just with Tyreese in the comm," she broke the silence.

"Yeah? Anything ta worry 'bout?"

"It's pretty quiet this morning. Except for…well, except for this one thing," Harper took a perverse pleasure in tormenting him.

"'Cept fer what?" Daryl tensed, instantly ready to bolt.

"If I tell you, will you promise that you'll wait at least five minutes," Harper enjoyed dragging it out.

"I ain't promising SHIT!" Daryl stormed up, grinding his jaw so tightly, she feared it might crack.

"Fine, Fine. I'll tell you. Ok, so there might be a small herd down between two and three. I guess they must have jumped the fence sometime during the night," Harper relented, watching his eyes alight with excitement. Then, just as quickly, they became shadowed with concern.

"I don't understand? I thought you'd be over the moon?"

"Did any of them sensors of yers go off?"

"No…..at least Ty didn't mention it?"

"If them deer jumped the fence wouldn't them sensors ya got have given off one of them warnin' blips?" Daryl reminded her.

"How else would they get in?"

"I'm thinkin' that's what I'm gunna find out. Most likely, yer sensors are broken or the batteries dead. Or..….maybe someone's lettin' 'em in?" Daryl began to pace as he worried about other scenarios.

"Oh Shite!" Harper was pissed she'd not considered this.

"Don't worry. I'ma go check it out. S'probly they jumped the fence and yer fancy sensors jus' ain't workin'," he slung his crossbow over his shoulder and headed out, not needing to say 'I told you so'.

"No bluidy way. Hold up. I'm going with you!" Harper jumped up to stop him. But when she reached out and grabbed his bare shoulder, he froze, barely able to control the flinch.

"I don't need ya ta go with me. Ya'll just slow me down," Daryl stared out at the woods, not even turning around to look at her.

"Too bluidy bad. This is my place, and it's my security. So if there's a bluidy problem with it, like you seem to think, are you going to know how to fix it? You don't even know where all the cameras and sensors are," Harper insisted, not giving an inch.

"Just give me a sec to grab my gear and tell Tyreese what's what. We can leave right after that," Harper gave Daryl a practiced glare.

"Come on," she was quite a ways inside before she finally felt him at her back.

"That was quick," Tyreese glanced up at them as they entered.

"Yeah. It was. Will you tell Rick that we're going to do a perimeter check to make sure those rascals did actually jump and that we don't have a downed fence or ….something…..else" Harper explained, watching Tyreese experience the same embarrassment and concern she had.

"Shit, I should have thought of that! Hold on, gimme a sec to pull up the sensor report from the past 24 hours," Tyreese was in the habit of doing this in the morning and night anyway, so it didn't take long.

"Hey Sasha…Noah," she reached for the mic.

"Daryl and I are heading your way to check the fences. You didn't happen to see what direction those deer came and where they were headed?"

"The big one came by first. From the southeast, heading northeast. A few seconds later, the other ones followed. Five or six I think," Sasha answered while Harper marked the map, then neatly folded it up.

"Thanks Sash. We'll be on nine and ten if you see something," Harper handed the mic back to Tyreese.

"H? Iif you wanted to bring us a few of those muffins and some hot coffee, that would be fine too," Noah suggested.

"Sorry, no can do. But Carol's been stressing, so she's been baking up a storm. There'll be plenty here when you get back," she assured Noah as she grabbed the portable mics that hung from hooks Abraham put up.

"I ain't wearin' that. Ya can, if ya want. But I ain't," Daryl protested but Harper ignored him.

"Yes you are Daryl. Because if anything happens to either of us out there, I'd prefer to not have to scream. So stop being such a bluidy baby and get over it."

"Don't need it," Daryl stomped, reminding her so much of Billy, the youngest back home, she couldn't help but smile.

"I thought we'd agreed to do things smart from now on," she ignored his protests, and clipped the receiver to his belt at his back, then adhered the nearly invisible earbud to his left ear with nude tape. Almost immediately he began fiddling with it, adjusting it, then scratching at his back where the receiver wire was tucked.

"Oh fer Chrissakes, stop messing with it. You're acting like a child. The whole point is that it's supposed to be invisible….." she thumped his bicep and rushed ahead.

"It don't feel invisible."

"It's nothing more than a bandaid."

"I hate them too."

Harper rolled her eyes.

"Let's just go on this walkabout and solve the mystery of the deer ok?" Harper forced a cheery smile, if only for the pleasure it gave to annoy him.

"Ain't gunna find nuthin' if ya don't stop yer clompin'," Daryl snarled and marched past her.

"I don't clomp Daryl!"

Harper slung her gear over her shoulder and ran to catch up, neither of them noticing the brusque shuddering of curtains as Beth watched from upstairs.

 **THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD**

They'd been hiking through the sun dappled woods for near an hour, only speaking at the bear minimum. Harper followed silently behind him, watching in fascination at how he easily navigated the forest, the way she had once done the streets. But it wasn't long before she couldn't take it. She had to speak her mind.

"Daryl…..I'm worried."

"S'fine. I told ya, it's prob'ly just dead batteries." Daryl answered. Sure, he'd been pissed when they first left but being out here always somehow put things right for him. But even more surprising was she really was able to follow silently. Not just sort of quietly….but actually silently. Almost as good as he was. It was uncanny.

"No, not about that. I'm worried about Rick. He hasn't told the group but I've heard rumblings that he wants to put up more watch towers. It's not a good idea."

"Don't listen ta gossip." Daryl snorted and kept on walking.

"Come on Daryl, aren't you in the least bit concerned? Rick's even talking about adding another post closer to the highway," Harper continued, completely unaware how beautiful she was with the golden rays streaming down to shine onto her luminous face.

"Naw, I ain't concerned. The earlier we got warnin' the better," Daryl bristled at any criticism of Rick, perceived or real.

"That's bullshite Daryl, and you know it. We've already got warning. Rick's talking about setting people five miles further down the road. That's closer to the highway than it is to the cabin. It's unnecessarily dangerous. And for what? When we've got the sensors and video cameras? Shouldn't we use those rather than risking lives?" Harper was finding it harder and harder to abdicate the decision making to Rick.

"Nunna us wanna lose this place. So we'll do whatever we gotta ta keep it safe. And we don't exactly trust cameras and shit," Daryl responded as if by rote.

"You think I don't want to keep this place safe? But we can't risk lives and resources on towers?"

"Saving this place is the only thing we should be 'wasting our time and resources' on," Daryl mocked her accent as he defended Rick's decision.

"You're wrong!"

"Ya don't know whatchya talkin' about," Daryl ignored her, walking away from her so fast he was practically running. She kept up.

"Actually, I do. And it's not about protecting this building or this property. It's about protecting our people. It's about keeping you alive. Keeping Judith and Carl and Beth and Maggie and Sasha…and even Abraham alive," Harper stomped, silver eyes shimmering.

"Have you ever done a failure analysis?" she turned on him, knowing she was pushing him.

"What the fuck ya talkin' about now? Just stop talkin' so I can track. I don't want ta hear ya chatter the whole damn way?" Daryl rolled his eyes and kept on, actually hoping for a walker.

"You know…. a 'Failure Analysis". It's something you do, when you look back in a non-judgmental way and figure out why things went tits-up? So you can do things different next time and prevent the same bad things happening over and over again.…" Harper ignored his snarky protest.

"Sounds like a waste'a time ta me." Daryl prayed she'd shut up.

"Yea, well it's not. NASA didn't think so. MI-6, the CIA, and the Department of Defense didn't think so. But feel free, Daryl Dixon…..to be the sole voice of reason in analyzing shitty situations." She screamed, forgetting her rule to use the mics.

"Don't exactly see nunna them around here now do you?"

"And how do you know they aren't sitting pretty hidden under the Greenbrier?" She countered.

"What's yer point?" Daryl sighed, finally stopping….knowing she wasn't going to.

"Well for starters, I'd like to know what's crawled up your arse. And then I want to tell you that you're being a dick and insulting. However, I'll ignore that. But refusing to at least look back at what went wrong in the past? You can't tell me….that after all you've been through, that you have no regrets? That there's nothing you would have done different? That you learned nothing?"

"You wanna know what I woulda done different? What I learned?" Daryl suddenly stopped and spun around, storming towards her.

"You really wanna know?" He pinned her against the tree.

"I woulda shot that one-eyed muther fucker the second I saw him," Daryl stopped and yelled in her face, every vein in his face pulsing, spittle clinging to his lips.

"And I'm sure that would have felt REALLY good…..for, about what? One, maybe two seconds? But since, you didn't shoot him that tells me you had a reason. My guess is either you or Rick would have been dead in seconds," She called him on his bravado, their faces barely inches apart.

Daryl stilled as he remembered that day …..the exact instant when he could have shot the Governor. And the calculation he'd had to make. That Rick would surely have been the first to get shot….then Glenn. In his gut, he knew he'd made the right call. They were alive….all still alive because they'd made the right call.

"Your silence leads me to believe that you made the right decision, am I right? This isn't about taking some wasted trip to fantasyland, Daryl. This is about being smart. This is about contingency planning. What I'm talking about is, what if you knew a week, or a month ahead of time what was going to happen, what could you have realistically done different? The operative being realistic here."

"FINE…I shoulda killed him miles before he got to us. I should never'a quit lookin' fer him," Daryl dropped his arms and turned away.

"Sounds like you want to pack your bags and go on a guilt trip, but carry on. So that means what?"

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Let's try it this way. What if you're only mission was to keep Rick, Carl and Judith alive – not to save the prison. And the enemy is still going to do whatever they're going to do. Do you still wish you had more fences and walls….. and more outposts?"

Daryl finally listened to Harper…..really listened. And eventually he actually started to hear.

"You had walls at the prison. You said you also felt safe at the Greene's. And at the CDC. So what was the common denominator Daryl?" she pressed, knowing he needed to think it through himself.

"We got overrun…we ran outta fuel…..we got attacked….We Ran! Is that what ya wanna hear" Daryl erupted

"Yes….That's what I want to hear. You ran! No matter where you were, no matter the security, you always ran But never with a plan to run? Right?" Harper pointed out.

"No. We didn't ever have no plan ta run! We were kinda FUCKIN' busy…ya know, stayin' alive an' all," Daryl snapped. Harper realized she'd gone too far.

"It wasn't a criticism."

"Yeah right," Daryl shrugged.

"So ya think yer sum kinda expert now? Cuz ya been hidin' out here? What do ya think we should'a done?" Daryl snarled.

"Stop being so snide and defensive Daryl. I'm only trying to help," Harper sighed deeply.

"All I'm trying to say is that you've had security before. I'd just like to propose that perhaps our strength and protection maybe isn't in more walls and towers but rather that nobody knows we exist. I'm suggesting we keep it that way. Hell, you were the one that made me realize I shouldn't get too attached to this place…." Harper tried to soften what she knew was coming off as criticism. She knew it was a bad habit of hers – and over two years of living alone obviously hadn't helped.

"So Daryl, what's the plan if and when the big bad wolf comes huffin' and puffin' and threatens to blow our house down? What are we going to do? To truly secure this place we'd need to build miles of impenetrable fence. Otherwise we have to fight it out? Over a 'piece my shite cabin' as you call it? I just don't think there's anything there worth anyone's life. Which means we run, just like you always have. I'm sure as shite going to run! Which is why we need safe houses …. and agreed upon meeting points."

Daryl turned away, beyond pissed. Not so much pissed at her, but pissed because he knew she was right.

"Fer chrissakes, H. Ya don't git it. People are settlin' in here. Really settlin' in. I know I called it a pieca a shit. An' I also know I told ya not ta get too attached. But now it's….I dunno….it's our piece'a'shit. Christ, Tyreese already built Judith a damn playgound," Daryl replied as if that was in some way an adequate explanation. It was.

"I know. I had no idea a child could get sand into so many crevices." Harper couldn't help but laugh at the memory, having given Judith her bath on more than a few occasions the last six months.

"Daryl, this cabin kept me safe. And I despised it when I first walked in….and even after I fixed it up, it was still nothing but a semi-decent prison cell. But now I'm pretty sure I want to keep it as much as anyone. But we can't ignore the possibility that we might get attacked." Harper couldn't understand why he didn't understand.

"You know? Whatever. Nevermind. Just forget it. I'll talk to Rick about it tonight. I just wanted to talk about it with you first," Harper's brows pursed and she headed off without him.

Daryl mulled over everything she'd said as he marched ahead. He couldn't deny the logic, but he still felt guilty for even considering it. It felt like a betrayal to Rick. But he couldn't deny that she made a lot of sense. And, for the first time, he let himself wonder how things might have been different if they'd had done things differently. What if they had made a plan to run from the prison? Would Beth have been captured by Grady? Would they have felt the need to go to Terminus?"

Daryl kept walking. They kept on that way for a while. Until Daryl abruptly stopped.

"The extra blind? I dunno. Not sure what it gives us. But I'm thinkin' I agree with ya. That we should be doin' sum things in case we gotta run." Daryl found himself agreeing.

"I just ain't sure how the others'll take it," Daryl stilled and looked around the walker free woods.

"Come on…are you talking about the same people I've met? They can handle just about anything," Harper caught up and reached for his hand, comforted when he eventually threaded his fingers with hers.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

 _A few hours later – deep in the north Georgia woods._

"So, I guess those little scamps did jump the fence," Harper couldn't explain it any other way. But Daryl continued to scan the intact fence line. Everything appeared normal. As normal as normal was anymore.

"I've seen 'em jump six foot fences like they was nuthin'." Daryl muttered but he kept looking around like he wasn't quite convinced. As if he were even more suspicious than when they first left.

"I guess we should head back. All the sensors are fine, so they must have jumped," Harper turned to join him, then stilled. And it suddenly bothered her. It bothered a lot.

"What is it?" even Daryl noticed it.

"Have you heard of the saying. 'the absence of evidence is also evidence'?" she whispered as they crept along the fence line, her fingers making sure the wire sensors were still intact.

"Daryl, we just walked every inch of the perimeter fences and didn't see a bluidy thing. But we know they got in somehow? Shouldn't we at least have seen something? I don't know? Hoof prints? Trampled grass? A downed fence? All the batteries were fine and nothing was down? That's not right," Harper wiped away the sweat that beaded down her face.

Daryl remained still, his eyes darting back and forth all around him.

"Come on. We're checking the fence again," Daryl grabbed her hand, and they began backtracking, inspecting the outer fence line again. Only this time, Daryl frequently signaled her to stop. The instant he stilled, she would freeze while he squatted down and she'd watch in fascination as he delicately brushed the soil away, or finger some leaves, or stare at something she couldn't see.

She stood still as he knelt down, then thoughtfully dusted away some leaves before picking up a handful of small brown pebbles, his eyes squinting with keen interest then taking a deep sniff.

"What is it?" Harper hurried over to join him. She knelt down close and picked up the same pellets, imitating his own examination, a serious expression on her face.

"Deer scat," Daryl could barely conceal the tiny smirk and twinkle in his eye. Truth was, looking at her, with her serious interest and full lips pursed in concentration, it made it hard for him to remember why he was even out here

"Scaht? What is that? Deer food or something?" Harper proffered, wondering if maybe Daryl was worried someone was leaving deer feed on her property to attract them?

"Sumthin' like that,"

"I don't get it."

"It was food … now it's just dried up deer shit," Daryl laughed full out.

"Ughhhh, that was a shite thing to do! A bluidy deer shite thing to do. Don't think I won't get you back! I grew up with a houseful of brothers and sisters….and we were all thieves. Paybacks were our specialty," Harper threw the handful of pellets into his chest. But that only made Daryl laugh louder.

"So, tell me, what exactly did you learn from sniffing that deer shite?" Harper rolled her eyes, refusing to let him know how much she enjoyed being with him….even if it was sniffing deer shite.

"Well, it ain't fresh, so it wadn't from the ones Sasha and Noah saw earlier."

"So? Are you at least going to tell me what you really think is going on? You don't buy my theory?" Harper stared into his crystal blue eyes, surprised again by the odd tingle she felt in her belly.

"I ain't shure. Maybe them deer been inside fer a while….just moseyin' around. It's safe and they got a water source by the creek. What I'm worried about is, what if folks ain't trakkin' us? What if they're herdin'? Yer fences are good. Maybe too good. If we got hunters nearby, what if they herd 'em inside, where they got nowhere else ta go. Thinkin' they can return and pick 'em off later?"

"Oh shite. And you think they might be in here now, tracking the deer…..because they're flourishing on this side of the fence without any predators? And then they stumble on us….. Bluidy Hell!" Harper quickly began to put it together.

"If someone's trackin' 'em, yer fences'll make 'em suspicious. Ain't any fences these days around still intact like these," Daryl ran his rough hands over the strong wooden boards with steel reinforcement.

"Sounds reasonable. But they couldn't have gone too far inside without triggering at least one of the sensors?" Harper frowned…thoroughly pissed, and a bit afraid. She'd been so sure she'd covered everything in her plan to protect herself. But the idea of just wandering hunters entering even the outer perimeter unauthorized chilled her to the bone….and bluidy pissed her off.

"That's what we gotta find out," Daryl continued his search.

"I don't suppose you've seen any footprints?" she asked.

Daryl shook his head no, again deadly serious. Without waiting, she got Tyreese on the mic.

"Ty….it's H. I need you to pull the video and audio files over the last 72 hours…more if you can. Everything!" Harper made sure Tyreese retrieved even the more remote feeds they rarely looked at unless an alarm had been triggered.

"I'm on it H. It'll be ready by the time you get back. If I find anything interesting, you'll be the first to hear," Tyreese assured her, the rapid fire of his fingers immediately clicking on the keyboard.

"One more thing, Tyreese. I want you to look for anything that might indicate the outer perimeter's been breached….by anything…or anyone. The tiniest weight…."

"Say what?" the concern in Tyreese's voice came through loud and clear.

"You heard me. Let me know what we find," she finished then immediately went in search of Daryl. It took her a few panicked seconds before she found him a few hundred yards near a large downed oak tree, intently investigating the soil.

"Bluidy Hell, Daryl! You scared the shite out of me!" Harper ran to catch up, leaping up and over the log with the ease of a gymnast on a vault. She at least enjoyed the look of surprise on Daryl's face. "You can't just go off and leave me."

"Wadn't leavin' ya '," Daryl continued gently brushing away the leaves and detritus as careful as any CSI.

"You sound like a guilty housewife." Harper squatted down beside him. "So? Did you find anything?"

Daryl didn't answer. Instead he reluctantly moved out of the way . As he did so, he revealed the the distinct depression of a pair of bootprints, clearly defined. Harper gasped as she knelt down, her fingers touching the soil….still moist. As Harper took a step back her best guess was it was an American's men's size 12. Which could mean easily mean a big guy.

"Well Shite!" Harper swore, massaging her temples with one hand.

"We need to take evidence….as best we can," she pulled out a reference object (Daryl's lighter) and began taking photos with her iphone. Daryl finally tightened his grip on her elbow and pulled her along.

"We need ta git back!" Daryl was worried. And for the first time since she ventured out on the highway, she was really terrified.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

Harper swatted the brambles out of her way as they reached the clearing. To say she was relieved was like the understatements, of a lifetime of understatements. She'd always prided herself on being in impeccable shape. Not because she enjoyed it, but because the job demanded it. She never knew if she'd have to sprint for five miles, or climb a wall, jump across a building, or crawl threw a two by two ventilation tunnel.

But now her thighs screamed, sweat streamed down her face and all she could think of was getting into the comm and watching the video.

"Daryl, Harper, We need to talk," Rick rushed to meet them at the clearing hours later.

"Did you find anything?" Rick's blue eyes were red-rimmed and full of worry.

"Someone may have been inside the outer fence. Didn't look like more'n one, but sumthin' we should watch," Daryl shrugged, much more calm about this than Harper was. Harper was vibrating with worry.

"I thought you said that couldn't happen? You said that every square foot of the perimeter was covered on camera." Rick turned his accusing eyes on Harper. Even Daryl was stunned at Rick's sudden demeanor and tried to intervene. But Harper pushed Daryl aside to stand chest to chest with Rick.

"No Rick, you weren't paying attention. I told you that inner perimeter and middle were covered. But that the outer perimeter had to be limited because of the footage, so the focus was on the entrance points….primarily because I didn't want to be bothered by every stray hunter, or guy that had a flat tire, or just someone taking a bluidy leak," Harper's hackles were on maximum and she quickly approached full rant.

"Shit, I'm sorry Harper. I'm just…." Rick turned away doing his best to calm himself down. Michonne had already talked to him about losing his cool. But when he stopped and thought about all they'd accomplished and built here in just a few short weeks, it only made him more determined not to lose it.

"I don't want to do this here, in front of everyone. Come, let's go for a walk," Rick lead the way.

"Here, put your arm around me," Rick insisted, picking up an Harper's pain.

"I'm fine," Harper shook her head, her pride getting the better of her.

"Put yer arm around my neck or I'll have ta carry ya," Rick sidled up to her, his voice low and husky….and far more threatening because of it.

"You're a bossy bloke," she relaxed into his body, and kissed his cheek, letting him know just how much she appreciated him.

"Don't ever forget it," Rick warned, no longer warm and inviting.

He set her down when they approached the furthest field, already planted with potatoes and peas and carrots and beets.

"I've been thinking on this for a while now, but given what you found today, I know we can no longer wait. I want two more watch towers put up, closer to the highway." Rick began to pace.

"Rick, that's not a good call. You're overreacting. We should think this out….we need to do the smart thing," Harper immediately jumped in.

"What do you know about any of this? What do you know about overreacting? Have you seen your soo…? Rick snapped and stopped, his fist pounding the fence post.

"Rick? Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you think I don't know you haven't sanitized the horrors you've been through? That you all haven't keep things from me? And I don't need to know. It's not even the point. The point is, I want to keep everyone safe here, as much as you do. But more towers? That only puts more people at risk with no benefit," Harper remained calm as she tried to persuade Rick.

"Rick, maybe ya should at least listen ta her," Daryl offered, but then took a step back.

"I am listening to her, Daryl. I just don't agree with her," Rick paused to stare at Daryl, confused and offended by the change in allegiance.

"I get that she means well. But you know she doesn't have our experience. She doesn't know what we've been through," Rick turned away and leaned against the fence post.

"Maybe that's a good thing Rick?" Daryl surprised Rick yet again.

"Goddamn it, Rick! You do know I AM right bluidy here!" Harper snapped and jumped between the two men.

"So, let me remind you that you've had fences and walls before. So why are you even here at my ….my shite-ass shine cabin?" Harper refused to be bullied…..even by Rick. She still had her own contingencies which she'd not told anyone about. And given Rick's reaction, maybe she was right not to.

"What the hell are you talking about? We were attacked, we didn't have the fire power….or manpower," he recalled the attack at the prison…and the quarry.

"All you've been through? And that was your take home? You didn't have the firepower? What about the US military? Did they not have the firepower? Yet we are still alive. If you step back you will notice a calculation error," Harper countered, looking to Daryl for support. But Daryl instead focused intently on the dirt he was moving back and forth with his boot.

"Lady, you got no idea what you're talking about? What we KNOW is there is no such thing as a safe place. NEVER. Even if nobody attacks, something as routine as a sickness can turn a sanctuary into a nightmare. So we accept that. That IS as good as it gets," Rick's anger was palpable.

"I agree with you. But you never planned in the way you just described, did you? You just said, no matter where you are, no matter how nice, even a sickness can take you down. I didn't even consider that. So why waste resources on towers? All I've done is lay low. All I'm suggesting, is rather than spending more effort on making this place a fortress, that we work on making this place invisible – and be prepared to run. Let's outfit safe houses and meeting points," Harper ranted.

"What you're suggesting is smart. I know that. But Goddamnit, I'm am so fucking sick of running. I'm just so sick and tired of it." Rick finally admitted, emotion crackling in his voice.

"Daryl, do I take it you agree with Harper?" Rick turned and took a deep breath, relying on his trusted mate.

"Security here is as good er better'n anythin' we've had, Rick. Don't see how more's gunna help."

"So, how do I tell everyone, now that they've settled in… That, instead of using their energy to protect this place, that we're going back out there to scout safe houses?" Rick struggled with the decision.

"Just explain it to 'em. Honestly, my guess is they'll be stoked. They need this." Daryl looked at Rick.

"And Rick, nobody is going to come all the way up here by accident. So if they do, they're coming up for a reason, and loaded….so we need to be prepared," Harper reminded Rick.

"I don't like it, but I have to agree with you," Rick gave ground because he knew it was smart. Harper nodded and turned to go.

"Harper, can I ask you something? It's been bugging me for six month now," Rick called out and Harper stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"What was it you did before all this? I have a bet that you were a steamroll operator?" Rick asked, the glimmer of a twinkle returning to his light blue eyes.

"Something like that. Suffice it to say that in a pinch, I'm a damn fine steam roller operator," Harper winked at Rick before walking away, her hips swaying side to side. And suddenly she felt more like the old Harper than she had in a very long time.

Daryl and Rick just stood by gob smacked, and helplessly watched, both trying to figure out exactly how that just happened

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

 _Later that night_

"Daryl?" Beth called as she looked around the meadow for him. Hugging her arms to ward of the evening chill, she tucked her knife into her boot and went in search. She'd tried to hold off on this, but she couldn't. Not any longer.

"There you are," she found him a short while later patrolling the inner perimeter. He didn't really need to but Daryl was a creature of habit and he couldn't sleep without at least one look around.

"Beth? Ya shouldn't be out here. It's gittin'cold and y'ain't recovered," Daryl slid his leather vest off and pulled it over her thin shoulders, his hands roughly rubbing her arms for warmth.

"I'm fine. I brought you some coffee," Beth handed him the warm insulated mug hoping he would sit and talk with her.

"Thanks," Daryl cautiously accepted and took a step back, sensing something was up.

"How ya feelin'? Fer real?" Daryl finally glanced back at her.

"I'm good. I'm really good. Thanks to you," Beth closed the distance and leaned her head on his shoulder, threaded her fingers in his, hoping he wouldn't pull away. He didn't.

"Daryl – the only reason I survived at Grady was because of you," Beth looked up at him.

"Naw, that ain't true."

"I survived a lot of things back at the prison because of you. You were the only person who treated me like I was capable of more than singing and taking care of Judith. When Noah and I were escaping, and it came down to it, I knew I had to cover him so he could get out. I knew I was strong enough to wait until I could try again. It turns out, I may have absorbed some of your temper as well," Beth laughed that only angered Daryl more.

"That ain't even remotely funny Beth. Ya coulda fuckin' died with that dumb ass stunt. Ya nearly did die!" Daryl jumped away from Beth. The recollection of that instant was etched into his memory….the blood and bits of flesh scattered over the dull gray hospital walls. He could still smell the antiseptic and the metallic stench of Beth's blood. The nausea welled up in his gut.

"Daryl, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," she hurried and slid her arms around him as she pressed her cheek to his chest. For a while she just held him, listening to his heartbeat while his chest rose up and down. Eventually she looked up at him.

"Can we talk Daryl? About that night? You know, before the walkers came? Before we got separated," Beth looked up at him with her big blue eyes while her hands slowly slid up his chest until her fingers caressed his stubbly cheek.

"Daryl, I…." Beth leaned forward and tentatively kissed him, her lips moving softly over his. He could taste the faintest hint of mint tea and she smelled of vanilla-lavender shampoo.

"Beth," Daryl enjoyed the feeling of being touched and kissed for a moment. But then pulled back and held her at arm's length. His brain was spinning . She was beautiful…. and she cared for him…and he loved her (or it was the closest thing to love he'd ever known). So why did this feel so wrong?

"Daryl? I thought? But why not?" Beth's eyes widened in shock.

"It's Harper isn't it?" Beth knew she sounded like a petulant child but she couldn't help it.

"I know you felt something that night. Something real. We both did. I love you, Daryl," Beth cried out. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, her young firm breasts pressed into his chest

Before Daryl could speak Beth kissed him again with such wanton yearning he found himself wanting and hoping to feel something. He couldn't deny she felt nice…comfortable. But the over-riding emotion was a sense of wrongness. He did love her (almost losing wouldn't have hurt so much if he didn't) but not as an object of his romantic desire. She was simply….his Beth. She was all that was right and good in the world anymore. She was the hope for the future. And she needed to be protected.

Eventually Beth realized this wasn't going at all like she'd imagine. She'd pictured this romantic heated embrace, where Daryl would lift her up and press her against the wall. There were no sparks. Just comfort.

"Is it because you think I'm too young, because I'm not. Plenty of people at Grady made that very clear." Beth enjoyed the wince on his handsome face….for a millisecond. Then felt instantly guilty for manipulating him. He didn't deserve that.

"Are you worried about what the others will think? Or what Maggie will do? Or is it just me? You just don't want me?" Beth pleaded, a single tear streaming down her cheek.

"Beth. Please don't do this. It ain't nunna them things. I mean, yeah, summa it is. I c'ain't explain it in those nice words. I just know that it don't feel right. That night, when I thought maybe we could stay at that house….I thought I could …I wanted to so much. I ain't never had a girlfriend er nuthin', but I do know that it should at least feel right," Daryl pleaded with her to try and understand. But the hurt in her eyes told him he'd not succeeded.

"Beth, I luv ya. I ain't never said that to a woman before. I ain't never said it ta anyone before. And that night…when I lost ya? It felt like a piece'a me'd been ripped out…." Daryl couldn't bring himself to admit he'd seriously doubted whether it was worth the effort to carry on.

"Oh Daryl," Beth threw herself into his arms, wrapping her body around him, unable to keep from kissing him over and over.

"Beth…..I need ta finish!" Daryl wasn't exactly sure what was up and what was down anymore.

"I ran after ya 'til I couldn't run no more. And then these guys found me and 'invited' me ta join their group. It was that or let them kill me right then, so …..I did. I knew they weren't good people, but I didn't do nuthin'. Just lived day ta day. Still, the entire time I was with them, I kept hearing your voice in my head. And it kept me right. It kept me from goin' down that path. Ya saw summa that path." Daryl's eyes glistened as he struggled to tell her about Joe's gang. But he would never speak about what almost happened to Carl….and what Rick did.

"Ya know what I feel fer ya Beth," Daryl tried like hell not ta hurt her. Hell, he wasn't so sure he understood what he felt himself. She was so beautiful, inside and out, and so much more than he deserved. But the tears in Beth's eyes told him he hadn't succeeded…he was hurting her.

"I love you Daryl. No matter what," Beth turned and held him tighter than he'd ever been held. But when she pulled back, she stared up at him quizzically.

"Have you ever maybe considered? I don't know? That maybe…you're gay?" Beth knew it sounded pretentious to assume because a man loved her, the way she knew Daryl did, but still didn't want her, that he was gay. But, other than his feelings for Carol, Beth couldn't think of a time when Daryl was involved with a woman. And, if she was honest, her jealousy of Harper was more about the time he was not spending with Beth. But years without sex was a long time for a man, if what her girlfriends said was to be believed. Even back at the prison women literally threw themselves at Daryl, but she never heard he'd taken any of them up on it. And the grapevine at the prison was fast and astonishingly accurate.

"Ya think I'm gay?" Daryl scoffed, scarcely believing he was having this conversation with Beth.

"I don't know! But if you are, it doesn't matter. Not to me. Not to anyone We all love you," Beth assured him, and for a moment Daryl wondered if that wouldn't be the easier way out. To just let her think he was gay.

"Beth, I ain't gay." Daryl assured her, but he had this nagging suspicion she didn't believe him.

"Daryl, I love you no matter what. Maybe we could talk about security too? Every once in a while?" Beth hugged him tight and kissed his cheek. She seemed pleased by that thought of him being gay, and she was so sincere, Daryl realized he didn't even care. He squeezed her hand, and escorted her safely back inside.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

 _In the comm room_

"Harper, you've got to take a break," Tyreese poured her another cup of coffee, making sure it was decaf this time. They'd all suffered the last few hours of caffeinated and sugared-up Harper. And it hadn't been fun for anyone.

"Ty, there's no way I can sleep now? Not if I know our defenses have been breached…..I've got to know who made that boot print," Harper rubbed her eyes, and tried to focus. She barely even noticed Rick join them.

"Harper, ya gotta get over that…..and quick. It's just how it is these days. We've looked at video…at least twenty times. If there was something there we would have found it," Rick brought her a glass of wine in hopes of maybe taming the crazy out of her.

"No way, Rick. I've gone over everything, but I know there's something I'm missing. Have you ever had that feeling something's right in front of you, but you just can't see it?" Harper shoved the glass of wine away, gulping the decaf instead.

"All the damn time," Rick smirked as he slumped against the door jamb, watching Harper stare at the monitor, slowly going through the footage frame by frame one more time.

"It's here…..I know it. I feel it. So why can't we bluidy see it?" Harper bent over and rested her forehead on the desk, letting her eyes close for a few precious seconds. Moments later, she felt warm hands massaging her shoulders. Tyreese…and his magic hands.

"Thank you, Ty," she reached up to let him know she appreciated his efforts, relaxing into the moment.

"So, has Daryl had a look?" Rick suggested. Daryl often saw things nobody else noticed.

"To do what? So he can waste hours of his life watching video from the oh so pastoral, _Watch Grass Grow_ Channel? Next up, Five Hours of Paint Drying?" Harper snapped, then instantly felt guilty.

"I'm sorry. I'm exhausted and I know I'm being a bitch." She admitted.

"You are. So no more coffee. Finish your wine and get some sleep. Everyone is aware of the situation and is on watch. We got this. Ya hear me? We got this! Everyone's safe tonight. And we need you at your best, which means you getting some sleep." Rick coaxed, as if she were some skiddish colt.

"But, what if…." Harper protested.

"What if nothing. Get some rest. WE…GOT….THIS!" Rick took a sip then handed the glass of wine back to her.

"I might have missed something?" Harper still couldn't let go.

"Then you missed something. We'll handle it. But you're no good to anyone if you can't think straight," Rick continued to cajole, wondering if he should take Maggie up on her suggestion to maybe sedate Harper.

"I don't know…" Harper finally acquiesced, bleary eyed and barely able to stand. Tyreese ended up carrying her upstairs when she literally collapsed from exhaustion.

An hour later, Beth climbed upstairs to go to sleep. She could have moved into one of the RVs, but honestly she liked staying with Harper and Harper said it was fine. Honestly, it reminded her of when she and Maggie shared a room when they were kids.

And she loved Harper too, not the least of which was because she saved her life. But they'd also become great friends, in spite of her recent bout with the green eyed monster. Beth tried to befriend Rosita and Tara, and while they got along ok, it wasn't like the natural easygoing friendship she seemed to have with Harper and Daryl. Harper was wicked smart, independent, and funny as hell and Beth found herself wanting to be more like her (how much of that was because Daryl seemed to like Harper she didn't know). Harper also didn't treat Beth like some weak flower in need of protection. So all of that only made Beth's jealousy of Harper and Daryl, all the more complicated…..and in light of tonight's realization foolish.

So, like at Grady, she compartmentalized by holding her feelings of friendship for Harper separate from, what she fully recognized, as immature jealousy.

"I wonder if Harper knows about Daryl?" Beth wondered aloud, as she undressed Harper, and slid the oversized 'Clash' t-shirt on.

Beth snuggled under the covers beside her and fell into a deep exhausted sleep.

 **THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD THE WALKING DEAD**

 _The next morning at breakfast_

Harper made her way, bleary eyed to the Mess hall. One of the first structures they'd built was the 'mess hall' which Abraham named. It started a few months ago as just a series of posts set in a concrete slab with a hodge-podge tin roof, but over time the group scavenged enough materials from nearby farms and barns and reinforced the walls with cement blocks, shingled the roof and added ventilation windows (all higher than ten feet). Now it looked like a rather funky eclectic barn.

"Ya look like ya could use this," Daryl handed her a mug of hot black coffee, adding extra sugar in direct proportion to the scowl on her face and bags under her eyes.

"Gimme….." She grabbed greedily, well aware she looked like shite warmed over. She gulped, and waited for the welcome relief.

"Ahhh, thanks," Harper wiped her brow, feeling a bit better.

"So why didn't call me in ta look at the tapes last night?" Daryl didn't look at her, just stared absently around the room. He decided not to tell her that Rick had him come take a look after Harper'd passed out.

"I don't know. I mean you were there in person and didn't see anything. And the rest of us all watched the tapes at least five times…..I guess it just pissed me off that I couldn't find anything," Harper begrudgingly admitted.

Daryl was about to tell her, but Rick motioned for everyone to gather round.

"Everybody, I need your attention!" Rick stood up and addressed the group.

"S'up Rick?" Abraham loudly slurped his coffee, knowing it annoyed Rosita. Rosita whacked him, but he only laughed harder then kissed her.

"A slight change in plans. No more fences. We'll still use the materials we have for repairs. And we're still going to work on the fields and securing the interior. But instead of the reinforcing the exterior fences, we're going to explore some alternate contingencies." Rick laid it out to the group

Everyone erupted in chaos as surprise and disappointment turned to anger and fear and accusations.

"Rick, what are ya doin'?"

"Ya tryin' ta get us all killed"

"He's getting' soft"

"Maybe he's goin' crazy again?"

And on and on it went.

Harper stood up to defend him, but Rick motioned her to stand down. She felt Daryl tug at her arm, so she reluctantly sat.

"Everybody shut the hell up and listen. And I mean really listen. How many times have we had fences? Strong fences. Tall fences. Fences upon fences…. guard towers." Rick reminded them, using Harper's words, earning at least their reluctant silence.

"Yet, Harper survived here all this time. Why? Because she had better fences? More towers? Because she was stronger and had more firepower? Or maybe you want to think she was just really lucky?" Rick asked pointedly as the group digested this abrupt change.

"Ain't no such thing as luck. You make your luck." Abraham piped up.

"Which is why everyone's going to do exactly what I say. No more towers. Instead we're going to camouflage the fences. Daryl and Harper found a fresh boot print yesterday which pointed out that anyone who's out there is going to notice a well tended secure fence. So, from now on, all repairs on the outer perimeter are to be done with older posts from the interior. We don't want to give anyone reason to think there's something up here worth finding. If anything, we make them think the opposite. We're gonna move boulders onto the road entrance. We're going to encourage the brush to grow over to roads, so anyone even considering heading up here has to look for an easier path," Rick felt his momentum building. Michonne smiled encouragingly at Rick, supporting him completely.

"Which brings me to the harder part. We're also going to have to go back out there. I want to put together small teams to locate and secure safe houses. We look for homes nearby first….within a day's run, and make them secure but not so that it looks like it. The more dilapidated the better. We secure food, weapons, radios, and medicine in a place only we know about," Rick explained, starting to diagram out his ideas on the white board they'd swiped from Sysco.

"Rick, that all sounds mighty nifty, but realistically, if someone attacks us how the hell are we all supposed to get from point A to point B? It's a clear strategic advantage being up here. But it's also harder for us all to escape," Abraham stormed to the board, grabbing one of the red chunky markers to make his point…..drawing a line from the cabin to the nearest potential safe house down the mountain.

"That's fifteen miles at best. And, under this hypothetical scenario, I assume we're also under heavy attack with a buncha women, a kid and a baby," Abraham's chest heaved in frustration, his offensive remarks largely ignored by everyone except Rosita and Tara who simultaneously pummeled him.

"Which is why we use the tunnel," Harper jerked away from Daryl and stood up. She grabbed the blue marker, drawing a dashed line from the X that represented her cabin to a point six miles north west.

"Are you crazy? I ain't digging no goddamned tunnel!" Abraham snorted derisively.

"Really? You wouldn't" Harper raised a capricious brow, putting Abraham on spotlight. Another showdown.

"Because people with as much or more to lose than we do, and far fewer resources than we have, already did. They not only wanted to live, but they wanted to live on their terms so badly that they were willing to do whatever it took, including digging a tunnel, shovel by shovel, carrying the dirt out bucket by bucket. Which is part of the reason why I bought this place. For the the old slave tunnel running from my basement to another cabin a few miles from here that used to be part of the Underground Railroad," she circled the approximate location.

Abraham at least had the temerity to shut up and look embarrassed.

"It may be hard to believe, but the cabin at the end is even less to look at than mine. It's covered in cudzu so thick it's barely visible…maybe 12 foot by 12 foot. There's also a truck waiting on the other side," Harper explained while everyone stared at her, including Daryl and Rick. She couldn't be sure if it was surprise, or if they were pissed she hadn't told them already.

"I did as much structural work as I could a few years ago, but it still needs work." She admitted.

Abraham slumped back to his chair and Rosita thumped him yet again for being an ass. But then kissed him, full tongue and everything. Tara then smacked them both just for being gross and annoying.

"Don't you have to worry that the oxygen levels might be depleted from the decomp," Eugene pointed out in his own inimitable way.

"That's a good point, Eugene, and yes we do," Harper answered.

"When I first opened the tunnel it was full of noxious gas. I added ventilation and did some maintenance. But this isn't about planning or even worrying about running. This is just incorporating one contingency in one of many options. In my career, I learned that as much as you plan something for going right, something always goes wrong. So you don't have to worry as much if you have a bunch of contingencies in place. Just plan for as many 'what ifs' as you can. But I'm well aware that I'm the new kid on the block. If anyone disagrees…..?"

Harper felt Daryl's glare burning holes into her back, but forced herself to focus on the positive. That the others were no longer grumbling and were instead seeming excited by the planning prospects.

The conversation transferred into loud and vocal suggestions, many of which were quite clever and rather extraordinary. Harper got up and began scribbling them down as quickly as she could.

"We'd need to distribute the resources and everyone would need to know where the safe houses were. We'd need a code, and a common hiding spot. And we can never let the loss of one be catastrophic….or indicate where the others were," Glenn was the most prolific and talented at this.

"At Grady, one of the doctors liked to talk about how they'd survived because they operated like a bee hive. Dawn called herself the Queen Bee, of course. She had a bunch of teams that stayed in outposts while they 'recruited'," Beth joined in, excited to have something to offer.

"That was why it was so hard to escape. In the early days, they'd parade those they'd caught….and….," Noah stopped the instant his eyes locked with Beth's.

"But they were out there on the highway, kidnapping people. They made a presence. That's exactly what we will not do. We won't be out there hurting or capturing anyone. We will stay in the shadows. People are dying at a much faster clip than they are being born which is why Grady won't last much longer. None of us will, which is why we need more babies." She winked at Maggie and Glenn, then wondered if Rosita and Abraham might end up beating them to it.

"No babies at least for a few weeks, if we can help it," Rick interjected, but then instantly felt guilty because of the risk all these people took to protect his own daughter.

"Sorry….not my place. We will welcome every miracle the Lord sends our way."

"To tunnels, shadows, babies and safe houses." Michonne raised her cup of coffee.

"I wanna see the tunnel? Can I?" Carl piped up. And just like that breakfast was over and everyone was clamoring for a view making it the activity of the day.

 **THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD – THE WALKING DEAD**

 _Later that night – on the porch_

"Why didn't ya tell me about the tunnel?" Daryl had been silently fuming all day, but pushed it to the back of his mind while everyone worked. The tunnel was in better condition than he expected. She'd added a cement floor and a battery powered golf cart, battery powered lights….even first aid kits.

"I'm really sorry Daryl. I know I should have…..it's just….I don't know," Harper's eyes glistened with shame.

"What if sumthin' happened? And we didn't know we had them tunnels?" Daryl refused to let it lie.

"I know….I know. Do you think I'm not beating myself up for it. Everything has just been happening so fast. And I don't trust easily Daryl. You know a little something about that at least. It took a leap of faith to bring you here. I thought you were good people, but I couldn't be 100% positive what this world had done to you? I knew what just the solitude had done to me," she sipped from a wine glass, having tapered off since that last night of binging.

"The truck needs a new battery. If we need it, we don't wanna have ta find out the truck's dead when we need it." Daryl took her glass and drank from it. She didn't mind.

"Do you think we should replace it? Or keep it in the tunnel? A dead battery keeps anyone that happens by from taking the truck. But it may take valuable time that we won't have to change out a battery?"

"Naw…keep the battery in the tunnel. We still need ta go back once a month anyway. Need ta keep a gas can down there too," Daryl added. Bub emerged from the bushes and took his favorite spot between them, licking their hands and settling down, and ….just like that, all was right with the world. At least as far as Bub was concerned.

"Everyone seems excited about going back out there. I'm surprised," Harper turned and asked.

"We've been here what? Over six months? And other than the food run, most of 'em ain't seen a walker. It's weird fer us….fer me. We all know how fast we can lose this place. But the longer we're here, ain't havin' ta fight fer nuthin'? Nobody want's ta git soft is all," Daryl tried to explain.

"I get that. After G and I started pulling in enough money to easily take care of everyone a thousand times over, we were afraid to let anyone take anything for granted. G and I took over when Norah and Nick passed…..and by that time there were sixteen of us. We had plenty of money, but we wouldn't let the little ones have a pass. All of us took it upon ourselves to educate and help the younger ones, so they could survive…..even if all the wealth suddenly disappeared."

"Ya don't talk about 'em very much," Daryl reached for the nearly full bottle of wine and refilled it.

"I know. I just feel like it might jinx it or something. When I picture them in my mind, I see it so perfectly. They're at the farmhouse. It's on an Isle as well. We were thieves…..so of course, we had to prepare for the worst."

"Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I understand the concern about losing your 'edge' or whatever it is that keeps you alive," Harper reached over and placed her hand over his. She felt him tense, so pulled away. So she was even more surprised when he pulled her hand back and held it.

"Beth thinks I'm gay," Daryl blurted out.

"Say what?" Harper gasped, barely choking out the words.

"She told me last night." Daryl drank heavily from the glass that they were apparently sharing.

"And what did you say?"

"I told I ain't gay of course. But I don't think she believed me. And she seemed so happy about it….."

"Whoa…wait a second. Are you telling me that you let her think you're gay? Because it was easy? Because she seemed happy?" Harper's voice rose an octave with each question.

"Well? Kinda? Maybe?" Daryl began to shift uncomfortably.

"I think you're leaving quite a bit of this out. Why would Beth be happy you are gay? She's in love with you," Harper turned to stare at him.

"I dunno…..Maybe….I guess, when Beth an' I were out there together, she mighta thought there was sumthin' between us…..sumthin' more'n what we are," Daryl awkwardly tried to explain.

"Ahhhh, Daryl. You need to tell her. You can't not tell her. Lying to her about this will hurt her far worse," Harper pointed out.

"I don't wanna hurt her," Daryl shrugged.

"Daryl, you love her. I know you do. But lying to her is worse. Trust me on this."

"How do you know I'm not gay?" Daryl turned, his blue eyes fixing on hers.

"It's obvious. And besides, you just told me," Harper shrugged and turned away, heat flushing her cheeks.

"Yeah?" Daryl gently turned her to face to him, his fingers caught in the curls of her hair.

Harper met his penetrating gaze with her own, for a second feeling like she was drowning. She slowly shook her head.

Before either could think their way out of it, their lips met. Harper sighed softly into his mouth. His lips were so soft but at the same time strong and firm. It took her breath away. Her body was tingling, feeling more alive than she had in ages. And just as quickly as it happened, Daryl pulled away, looking as shocked as she felt.

"You're right. You definitely aren't gay. Goodnight," Harper scrambled to her feet and ran upstairs.


End file.
